Love You, Hate You, Can't Stop Thinking About You
by Shangri-La
Summary: High School fic -- Enter Aisha's life, perhaps the average angry, insecure teen with weird friends and an unreachable crush named Harry.
1. Just to get us started

"Shut up, Aisha!" Harry glared at me fiercely, violet eyes laced with flecks of gold, cold and unyielding in his anger. His jaw was tightened angrily, teeth gritted, but the intense expression on his face slowly melted away as he tugged hurriedly on his book bag. It was like he was desperate to get away from me.

My neck was beginning to feel strained from looking back at him over my shoulder, and I sighed in puzzlement. What the heck was this? Some sort of temper tantrum? I hadn't done anything to provoke this sort of wrath. Again, I faced forward, the stairs calling my attention, and as I began the hurried ascent, I felt him smack at my book bag irritably. "Hey!" I demanded, now majorly ticked off. "I didn't do anything to you! I barely said anything!"

"I know," he grumbled, and my brow crinkled in shock.

What the heck was going on?

"That's not very nice," I tried again, attempting to make light of the situation.

"You tell me to shut up all the time!" He jostled past me up the stairs and I was going to say something else, but Gene squeezed in between us and shoved me against the railings.

"Aisha! Watch where you're going!" he teased.

"You too," I grunted, and shoved the redhead back.

He laughed, maniacally almost, and we continued to push and shove at each other all the way to fourth period. Out of the corner of my eye though, I noticed that Harry's expression was completely softened and he had hurried ahead, which I regretted greatly. He normally wasn't like that. Had I done something to upset him? All I'd really said was something like, "Yeah, well, you don't think much anyway, do ya?"

It was a standard remark.

Maybe I'm too harsh.

Gene was slamming me against the wall now.

Maybe I'm not harsh enough.

Gene ended up on the floor as I ran on ahead at top speed to my next class, clumsily tripping along in my clogs and ugly plaid school uniform. When I reached history/world geography, I tried to locate Harry, maybe talk to him, but he was playfully flipping up Meg's blonde hair, causing her to shrug and giggle against the tickles. I like Meg, but it REALLY bothers me when she does that.

Harry used to play with my hair.

I ground my teeth mentally. It really was all my fault. We used to be such good friends, but when Suzuka and I became better acquainted, it was like we were instantly inseparable and created all these inside jokes that he'd ask about, but I'd just wave a hand and flippantly say, "You wouldn't understand..."

Wow. I'm a jerk.

But he made me feel left out sometimes too. It's like he preferred his guy friends to me, and although that is understandable, it's not understandable when he promises - PROMISES - to be somewhere, but ditches me for someone like...Leon. Leon with the negative five I.Q. His excuse was always the same. "I forgot."

I took my seat and tried to catch Suzuka's eye, but she was across the room and, oh great, talking to Harry. Sometimes, I think something's going on between them... She is always passing notes to him, but never telling me what they say.

While my friendship with her grows stronger, mine with Harry dies.

Jim sits behind me. He's an average looking blonde kid with blue eyes and an almost shy smile. We have this little game going on where I try to unzip a pocket on his trapper before he can react and slam his hand over mine, but I've never actually succeeded. The boy has reflexes like a cat, and he's super smart to boot. It's funny, because we're actually really good friends, but no one seems to notice.

"Hey, Aisha," he said, leaning forward to captivate my attention. "Have you ever been to and I love Strong Bad," I replied with a charming smile. One thing about me - I can pretend like I'm the happiest girl in the world when I feel like I'm drowning in sorrow. It has its pros and cons.

"Ever see the one with the interview?"

I shook my head and let him explain the web cartoon to me in avid detail, blue eyes glittering, mouth set in a crooked grin, but really my attention was on someone else, someone sketching in a black notebook with eyes staring into a world only he could see.

Maybe you're confused, and I should fill you in a little. Ok, here goes.

Being me isn't easy. This could be because I'm clumsy, I'm loud, I laugh too easily, and I can get insecure over absolutely nothing, or because I am a public system reject in a private school where everyone has known each other since kindergarten and I only go back to eighth grade. Guess history does count for something.

My name is Aisha and I am so different that sometimes it's painful. And sometimes it's awesome. I mean, being different can be really refreshing, but to get the rewards you have to sweat a little. You know what I mean?

Let's catch you up. I'm your typical blue-eyed, white-haired C'tarl c'tarl. Cat-like without the grace. I attend a small, close-knit private school. Eh...it's a religious deal. I like anime, snow boarding, and doing anything that you would never even consider because it's too weird.

Not that kind of weird.

Paper mache animal weird.

I'm actually really a goody-two shoes who has a sarcastic side and a quick temper, but never sneaks out to parties or goes to movies I'm not allowed to see or anything of the sort. I have a good relationship with my family and I like to shop with my mom. My grandparents don't embarrass me and although I complain a lot about doing manual work, I get good grades and all that.

The people I know, my friends, they're...out there. But let's just doing a quick little review of my history. I just wish I had a slide show.

Ok, first of all, let's start with the beginning. First person to welcome my arrival at Flame of Faith was Macy. She's a short, overweight, frizzy- haired girl with glasses and a not so great complexion. But if you need someone to talk to, she's your gal. It only took her about five seconds to claim me as a companion.

Gene. He was the second person to introduce himself. He came in eighth grade as well, so he was just as new, but made friends, like, ten times faster. This guy makes all the so called popular girls drool. Or, at least, he did. Then they got to know him. Flame-licked hair, deeply tanned skin, eyes so deep you could drown in them, and a muscular build - what's really to disagree with? Umm...oh yeah, his personality. Let me put it this way. He builds up your motivation to pursue him by faking interest, and then completely turns into an immature, egotistical jerk that is always winking and laughing and making smart remarks. But by then, you're hooked. You love him, you hate him, you're sticking pins into his voodoo doll.

A guy who finds it amusing to fake gayety (at least I THINK he's faking), is Gene's good friend - Fred Lou. Ok, Fred is cute, he's very cute, but for every bit of cuteness he possesses, he also has a smidgen of weirdness. He wears his black hair longer than the school dress code allows, but because his father is very rich, he gets away with it and always wears this hideous bandanna to boot. Sometimes, when a bout of seriousness strikes him, he'll turn and look at me with such solemn, brown eyes in his long, pale face that I wonder what the heck is going on in that mind of his. Scarily enough, he's become a good friend of mine. I think it's because he seems to have a strong feminine side.

In almost every class, Jim sits behind me. Jim is consumed with his studies and martial arts. So, he's strong and smart, but also an outcast. He prefers to be alone most of the time, and maybe that's why no one really notices him. He's cool though. I like to hang out with him.

Suzuka is my best friend in the whole entire world. She understands me like no one ever has and probably no one ever will. Sometimes, she even finishes my sentences. Before I started to hang out with her, she'd had some bad experiences with 'friends'. They'd betrayed her, mistreated her, left her out, and persecuted her for it. It was hard, trying to get her to tone down her sarcastic and cold nature and become a bit more sociable, but now she gets along very well - she even is friends with some of the more popular guys that don't notice me.

Melfina isn't really my friend, but I know her and am starting to become better acquaintances with her. She's a supposedly popular girl, jet black hair, peaches and cream skin, doe brown eyes...sometimes I hate her. She's so obnoxiously perfect with that soft voice and musical giggle.

Outside of school though, I know a few more people. Let's discuss Vash. I lived by him when I was around four and moved away at twelve, and we're still friends. So are our parents. He's weird, really. I used to be better friends with his almost identical brother, Knives, and mostly because I thought Vash was weird, but the older we get, the more I realize Knives is the weird one. He hates the government because they 'corrupted' him, and shoots a glare at happy, carefree Vash every time he announces he is going to perform a break dance move.

At my church youth group, which consists of around two hundred people, I've met about one guy. Wolfwood. He confuses me to no end and makes me nervous to boot. I'd love to go into deeper detail about him, but, wait, no I wouldn't, because he's really complicated and maybe we should just cross that bridge when we get to it.

You're supposed to save the most important for last, so here goes. Harry was the first boy to really catch my interest at school. He was different in every aspect. His personality was more sensitive, yet very humorous, and during summers he dyes his hair a teal color while other times it remains jet black. His build is tall and lanky with wiry muscle - he's stronger than he looks - and his eyes...beautiful violet. I've never seen anything like them.

Now, Harry was not an easy person to get to know. It took me months to get him to even respond to my greeting with more than a grunt. Therefore, at first, I considered him stuck-up, and then shy, and then I loathed him, but it couldn't last. Just wasn't destined too. I soon was hopelessly consumed in getting him to notice me, to be my friend...

Now you're up to speed. Those are the major people in my life, and I enjoy and hate them immensely. I guess no one's life is perfect though.

At the beginning of the school year of eighth grade, I was sort of...unpopular. Macy and I sat at a lunch table all by our lonesome, no one around us, like we were floating in a sea of rejection. Was enough to make me feel forsaken. Then as things progressed, I was friendly, I was nice, and I got the guys to pay more attention to me. Fred was my first real jump forward, and then Gene followed. Soon, they talked to me more than they talked to other girls. That felt pretty cool.

Sometimes I noticed the popular girls - control freak Maria, airhead Lacy, perfect Melfina, and sporty Gigi, staring at me. It creeped me out until Suzuka, a girl who was content to be known as an outcast, approached me one day in the act of throwing a paper wad at my head and we started to talk.

"Don't let them bother you," she said with a roll of her eyes. "They're all retards."

"Why are they looking at me?"

"Wondering why you hang out with Macy. They might like the way you look."

"Doubt it. They all look perfect - skinny with straight, shiny hair and tons of make-up. I don't even wear make up."

"They could convert you. Besides, you're not bad looking." She smirked. "And you've got more curves than they'll ever have."

I don't really know why Suzuka said that thing about the curves. She's the skinniest girl in the class, and very rough as well. I think that's why she's more of a loner. That and she refuses to attend parties. Still, we managed to form a sort of loose - very loose - friendship. It grew to the point where we were never seen apart in ninth grade.

Harry remained distant.

Then came the breakthrough. Fred invited Harry to a party that I was going to be at, and because I urged Harry a little bit with Fred present, I felt pretty confident he might show up.

Imagine my surprise when that night my mother received a phone call from none other than Harry's mom, who was calling to ask for information on the party that I, not Fred, had invited him too. I never thought I'd relocate my jaw.

"Fred asked him, not me!" I declared, but it was hopeless. Harry was happy with my bold move - which I didn't even make. From what my mother was told, he spoke of me often at home. Apparently he wasn't as aloof as I had thought.

And he was a momma's boy.

We went to the party, an old friend's elder brother declared me insane, locked me in a closet for half the night, and the rest is history. We were officially friends.

But I couldn't be satisfied with that, could I?

No...I made a very, very, very courageous venture. I invited him over to my house. He accepted. And I had a heart attack.

But first we went to the school's skate party. Now, have I mentioned I don't really roller blade? And Harry is pretty athletic? And a show off? So, while I was clunking around the ring, trying not to trip over my blades, he was skating circles around me and teasingly shouting, "LOOK OUT, AISHA!" while pretending like he was heading on a collision course towards me.

But, that's pretty much our history, so let's start the real story to where it gets really good.

For nearly half an hour I paced. And paced. And paced some more. Harry was coming to my house - MY house - for the FIRST time ever! And he was late.

His mom, Renee, had already called. I had answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"WHERE'S A CAR WASH?"

Renee believes you can't hear her on a phone call unless she shouts. I held the phone away from my ear and asked hesitantly, "Renee?" She won't let me call her by her last name. Probably because I'd have to call her 'Mrs.' And she isn't a Mrs. Harry was an illegitimate child, the product of an affair, and she had left her husband when she had figured out she was pregnant with him. So it's just Renee. But she's such an awesome person!

"AISHA HONEY? THIS IS RENEE! IS THERE A CAR WASH AROUND HERE? MY CAR IS REALLY DIRTY!"

"I don't think there is one, Renee. Are you lost? Do you need directions?"

"YES."

I promptly handed the phone to my mom and let her take care of business. It seemed like forever until Harry arrived.

When he did, he didn't even knock on the door. Just waltzed right on in. Pretty confident, I'd say. "Hey," he greeted, and then stooped to pet my dog, a chubby beagle. "I brought some video games."

I smiled, clasping my hands behind my back. "Do you like anime?" I'd noticed him doodling Dragonball Z characters in his notebook at school, so I figured it was worth a shot. It seemed like I was the only one I knew who appreciated Japanese art.

He shrugged. "Yeah. I guess. Why?"

"Have you ever heard of Rurouni Kenshin?" It wasn't on any TV stations around where we lived, so I was pretty sure he didn't have a clue as to what it was.

"Nope." Bingo. I was right.

"I have a movie - well, an OVA, of it called 'Trust'. It's a really cool show about a samurai/assassin during a war. The animation is awesome and it's got really cool fight scenes." Then, knowing that all boys are suckers for gore, I added with gusto, "It's rated NC-17 for violence."

"Awesome! Let's watch it!"

I led him to the upstairs TV room, still feeling pretty jittery, and popped in the DVD. He was impressed by the cover, which depicted redhead Kenshin in the rain, blood splattered on his face. However, I did have to reassure him when the screen displayed it's titling of: 'Samurai X...Romantic Tales of the Meiji Era'. We only got about seven minutes into the movie before Harry revealed his loud and excitable side.

"Romantic tales!" he crowed in joy, eyes wide as Tomoe's fiancé envisioned her for the last time just before taking a sword to the jugular vein.

"That's as romantic as it gets," I agreed solemnly, and we both collapsed into laughter immediately after.

My sister, who is much more serious than I, observed us with narrowed eyes. "Pigs," she seethed spitefully as Harry started on his second slice of pizza. Her jaw tightened when he turned shocked eyes upon her. Having no siblings, Harry wasn't used to sibling abuse.

"Let us watch the movie," I commanded, and she sulkily retained her perch on a chair in the back of the room, watching the display of violence on the TV screen immediately.

We watched the movie, ate our food, and played video games the rest of the night. It was a ridiculously technological night of entertainment, but we both enjoyed it. It seemed like Harry was destined to be one of my best friends. Heck, I could see him developing into a boyfriend, because he understood me, and he was kind. And I couldn't see him ever causing me any grief.

Which...when you think about it...doesn't make sense...you know, considering he _is _of the male gender.


	2. Homecoming and why it sucks

There's nothing to do in Spanish but chew on your pen, and chew I did. Chew, chew, chew... All the while, I was aware of Fred behind me braiding my hair, whispering words into my ear that I didn't really hear. If it had been anyone other than Fred, I would've thought, 'Gee, this guy is hitting on me big time,' but Fred's a very intimate person. He likes to tell me stories during class, chuckling every now and then, his warm breath tickling my ear and causing me to shiver. It feels undeniably good.

But don't get me wrong. I harbor no feelings for Fred.

I was still gnawing away at my pen, hoping halfheartedly that it wouldn't break and ink wouldn't fill my mouth and poison me. That happened to a kid in my mom's class once.

Then there was the girl from eighth grade who stuck a pencil in her ear and screamed bloody murder in the middle of class because she couldn't get the eraser out. So she was sent to the hospital, but I had missed out on that period and by the time I arrived at school, very late, everyone was talking and I was pretty confused. But I'm confused a lot. People joke about how dense I can be.

That's off subject though.

"That is the ugliest braid I have ever seen."

That little comment came from Jim, who is sitting beside Fred and eyeing the sloppy braid he had created.

Fred happily went about undoing my braid and carefully ran his fingers through the straight locks. One of his fingers waggled to tickle the back of my neck, and he leaned forward, murmuring, "You're hair is really soft..."

I smiled. "Thanks."

Fred's pretty different. The other guys don't know what to think about him. He's more bold than they are, more sensitive, and a lot more free with his opinion. He doesn't seem to have this need to prove anything like the others.

One time, we were waiting after school and I was wearing a new denim coat that tailored to my waist and was lined with fur. Jokingly, I insisted Fred try it on, never dreaming he'd actually do it. So, imagine the sight when Fred slipped into the too small coat, which stretched painfully over his broad shoulders and longer arms, and modeled it with pride.

"I don't know why people think this sort of stuff is gay," he said with a pleased smile, smoothing down some of the fur on the sleeve. "Just 'cuz I'm a guy wearing this coat doesn't mean I'm gay. Oh, and same goes for the color pink. Hey, I'm a guy - I LIKE PINK!"

I'm not sure if he intended the last part to be so loud, but it was, and most of the senior guys were staring at him with a mixed look of horror and squeamishness.

Anyhow, back to Spanish, Harry was casting nonchalant glances my way and I was throwing them back with a dull expression. He made a face, scrunching up his nose and twisting his mouth, and I blanched at the unattractive look.

Thankfully, the bell rang and Suzuka was waiting for me after class, just like always, that dull expression on her face. "Any decisions?"

"I don't really care for him that much." What a liar I am.

"Is that your final answer?"

I nodded my head. Lately, I'd confided in her how confused I was over Harry. Just didn't know what to do about him. Truthfully, I think she knew she was the reason we had grown apart. When she had shown up, all the attention I usually lavished on him went straight to her. Why is it that sometimes I seem to have too much time to myself, but not near enough for everyone to feel like I'm even paying attention to them anymore? Even Macy was starting to complain I didn't ever talk to her anymore.

"Who do you like nowadays, Suzuka?" I asked of the fickle girl, whose crush changed everyday. It seemed like she had scarcely settled on a boy before finding some inexcusable flaw in him.

My one and only crush was Harry. I felt like it always would be.

"Homecoming is coming up, you know," I added. "There are already like...four couples."

She shrugged, bony shoulders rising beneath her stiff, blue oxford, and then muttered a goodbye as she rushed off to science and I headed to geometry. What an uneventful day...

"Hey, Aisha, it's me. Melfina."

"Mel? Oh, h-hi..." Why the heck was one of the popular girls phoning me? Sure, we talked sometimes, but I didn't think we were that good of friends.

"I just had to call someone!"

Nice, I thought, why didn't you call one of YOUR friends?

"Guess who just asked me to homecoming!"

Now my ears pricked up, and I slammed the door to my room shut. Melfina had talked about her fear of not being asked to homecoming before, and I'd been observing her for a week or two now. She was always with her friends, but never talking to them. Just...watching. Looking like she was on the outside with her perfect body and glossy, black hair. She was one of those types that looked so beautiful and picturesque when she was sad, like an artist had painted her that way.

"Who asked you?" I tentatively inquired.

"Harry!" she squealed. "Isn't that sweet? He just called a few minutes ago!"

The phone almost slipped from my fingers as they loosened in shock. Suddenly, the world seemed so much larger, colder; my room was darker. I was dry-mouthed now, and forced to gulp down a lump in my throat. "Wh- what'd he say?" I nearly whispered, trying to fake enthusiasm.

Melfina told me, in painful detail, but I almost didn't hear a word. This was positively awful. Harry had almost flat out told me before that he LIKED ME! Not Melfina! No, that was in the past, he said so - he said that he didn't like her any more!

My palms were wet with perspiration when I finally ended the torturous call, clicking the off button. Then, I fell back onto my bed, onto my rumpled covers, and flung an arm over my stomach with a dramatic sigh. For a moment, I mindlessly stared at the slowly whirling blades of my fan, the lighting in my room terribly dim, and then let my eyelids drift shut. I thought back on some things. Most concerned Harry. Some concerned how stupid I was. Since when did a boy determine my happiness? Stupid, stupid, stupid...

Have you ever loved anyone, Aisha++He tucks a hand underneath his chin and leans closer in a familiar, innocent way, smiling a boyish smile+

Well, not really. What about you, Harry?

+The smile fades+ Once. It was Melfina. For three years.

Still love her?

Nah. What's the point of loving someone who will never even like you back?

+I look at him, not knowing what to say. Where is this conversation heading+

Someday I want to move, far, far away from here... To an island, with a beach, with a place where I can really feel free and just...be myself.

An island?

Sounds great, huh?

You'll come back to visit me, right?

Maybe you'll go with me.

My eyes fluttered open again to fixate on the fan, turning, turning, always turning... I miss it when we used to have conversations like that. When he used to say things to me like, "I can really talk to you like no one else," and, "I like it when your wear your hair like that. It looks really good."

There's only one thing to do then.

Our relationship is beyond repair.

Move on.

Or...

My eyes widen and then reflexively shut. Tomorrow. I'll wait for tomorrow.

I didn't talk to Harry at all the next day. Melfina was always with him, smiling and chattering away. He always replied. Didn't look terribly happy or upset either way. Suzuka was rolling her eyes at the pathetic display and my heart was silently throbbing in the midst of all the confusion.

I don't care what anyone says. When you really care for someone, and you thought they cared for you, it hurts after they turn away without even a reason.

By the time study hall rolled around, I was feeling dismal. Homecoming was just around the bend and I had no date - so Suzuka had promised we'd go together stag and just have a good time. Stag. That sounded nice. That sounded independent and cool.

And then a hand slammed down on my desk and I looked up into the face of none other than Ron, a tall, long-faced, dark-skinned, semi-good looking guy who wasn't all too popular, but my friend all the same. I smiled at him. People steered clear of the guy, but he seemed nice to me.

"Hey, Ron."

"Aisha..." He drew in a deep sigh, and I could tell he was slightly nervous. "Do you wanna go to homecoming with me?"

I thought for a moment, my thoughts fleetingly turning to Suzuka, and then I thought of Harry, and how angry he had made me. And I looked at Ron's earnest face. He seemed so fearful of rejection.

"I - I...are you serious?" Could I ever just sound like a somewhat intelligent being?

"Yes."

"Well," I said, my voice uncharacteristically soft, quiet, "yes. It'd be fun."

Relief seemed to spread over his face, and he hurriedly gathered my books, handing them to me. "Good. It's a date then."

I smirked. "Yes. It's a date."

Macy seemed heartbroken. I'd informed her Ron had asked me and now he was sitting beside me at the lunch table. Never mind that she secretly liked him, though always denying it, and had adamantly (and rudely) insisted he'd never ask ME in a MILLION years. This little twist served her right for insinuating no one would ask me. Pshaw. No one was gonna ask her!

Ok, so I got a little offended.

Ron was munching contentedly away at a bag of potato chips when Harry sauntered over with Melfina, smiling sheepishly. Since I looked down, pretending not to be in a conversational move, he directed his greeting to Suzuka, who was also ticked at me. I'd broken my promise to go with her as free game.

"Hey...do you have any change?"

He always asks for money when he wants an excuse to talk to me.

We all shook out heads no, but Ron, who was smiling smugly, proud he'd captured a date for himself, motioned to an empty seat across from me. "Sit with us."

Harry looked vaguely bewildered about the fact that Ron was sitting with us, but accepted the invitation nonetheless. Melfina squeezed in beside him and for a moment, there was awkward silence.

"So," Melfina began uncertainly after a while, smiling brightly. "There are..five couples now. For homecoming."

"Who are they now?" demanded Suzuka, sick and tired of the whole dating thing. She thought it ridiculous - never mind that she had her own crush at the time.

"Well, me and Harry, Gene and Lacy, Jim and Sharon, Ryan and Gigi, and Meg and Fred just got together."

"I thought Fred was gay," pointed out Ron, scowling at the thought. He's a very paranoid person, always thinking Fred might try to flirt with him or something.

Melfina shrugged. "I don't think he's really gay...I think he pretends."

"I think he's bi," said Harry flatly.

Suzuka, who had been quietly sitting on my left side all this time, put down her yogurt and said sharply, "Melfina, you forgot the newest couple."

"Who's that?"

"Aisha and Ron, of course," she snorted, and I could tell she still wasn't pleased about my broken promise. I wasn't pleased either. I felt guilty.

Harry's face was blank a few moments, and then he looked completely aghast. "You...guys are going to homecoming together?"

"Yes," I said with a smile, trying my best to look convincing that I was excited. He looked even more upset than I had been when I heard about him and Melfina.

Ron had gone back to drinking his pop and Harry quickly regained his composure, though Melfina looked slightly confused.

Some of the guys had overheard though, Ryan and Gene to be precise, and they headed over to our table like wolves on the prowl.

"Is that right?" asked Ryan in what seemed to be awe. "Aisha said yes to you, Ron?"

Now my date looked a little edgy, as if he was getting protective. He gulped down whatever food he had been chewing. "Yeah."

"No way!" exclaimed Gene unbelievingly. "Aisha, you actually said yes?"

"Yes..."

"Hmm..."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I dunno. You just seem...unapproachable. Like you wouldn't say yes to us or something. And we just didn't expect you to go with Ron..."

Shrugging, they took their exit, and I grinned almost wolfishly, which is a strange thing for a C'tarl c'tarl to do, since they're cats. Wow, they thought I was too good for Ron. They thought I was unapproachable. Probably didn't ask me because of the unapproachable bit. "Hey," I teased, jabbing Ron in the ribs, "seems I'm out of your league here. Guess you're pretty lucky to have me for a date."

He frowned, taking offense to my joke. "MARIA is out of my league," he grumbled in reply, speaking of the popular control freak.

Since I didn't want to have a fight with him in front of Harry, I said nothing.

I endured another two weeks of Ron's jerk behavior, beginning to realize just why people steered clear of him, and also to wonder how he had hidden this side from me for a whole year. He spoke of how lucky I was to be with him, and not in the joking way I did, but in an utterly serious tone, and at least four times he said something along the lines of, "I could've asked so-and-so, but she's out of my league."

I dumped him - three times - but he never seemed to think I was serious. So here's a question? How can you lose your date when they think it's all a big joke?

Either way, when homecoming came around, I put on my dress, a plain, sleek, black, gown that was well-fitted and velvety to the touch, curled my hair in loose spirals, and applied my make-up. Then, holding my high-heeled, glittery, strappy shoes, I sat down on my bed, stared into the mirror across from it, and sighed.

I stared at myself for a long time, not in vanity, but in sorrow. I hated what I had done to myself, how weak I was. I'd never ever cared about boyfriends or the like before I met Harry. He was the first one to even affect me. Guys come and go, I used to tell myself. Don't let them break your heart. The right one is out there.

Why couldn't I just take my own advice?

"Aisha," I told myself, touching a fingertip to the cool, semi-dry glitter on my cheek, "you are a fool."


	3. Meet my delinquent friend

BIG THANKS TO:

The one and only, Julia: You were the first person to review! Good for you!

Dra: You are the perfect reviewer. Honestly, you're the reason I even bothered posting the third chapter. Keep reviewing! I'll pry e-mail you sometime. Thanks a ton and I hope you review some more. Oh, and I like Harry/Aisha too. It just...fits.

Author's note: Writing this chapter brought back bad memories of homecoming. The girl who I have playing Melfina even says she had a bad time - well, at least now she does. Seems there was more to it then I saw, but I didn't write about any of it in this chapter. FYI, the guy who I have playing Harry ignored her most of the time and took frequent trips to the restroom, or at least he said he did, when in reality he was randomly wandering the empty halls of the school. My date...he was actually very good for the actual homecoming, but a jerk everywhere else, so I don't have fond memories at all.

I hurt - all over. Homecoming does quite a job on you. Especially your feet.

It hadn't been so bad, actually, although the after party had been EXTREMELY boring, and Ron had even behaved like a gentleman for the night. I was beginning to think that everything was getting better, because it barely affected me to see Harry and Melfina sitting together, talking and smiling. In fact, I was very proud of myself.

No boy controls Aisha's feelings!

And then the phone rang. "Probably another telemarketer," I decided, hobbling over to retrieve the phone and preparing the old 'I only speak Spanish' routine. Of course that only worked sometimes. Once they'd found a Spanish-speaking person at wherever those telemarketers are to come talk to me. I picked up the portable and clicked it on.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Aisha. This is Harry."

"Oh, hi, Harry." I frowned, leaning against the kitchen counter and glanced into the next room, where my parents were talking to my sister about something. Didn't this BOY know that he was messing with my system of forgetting him?

"I just called to...talk."

He'd never said that before. Usually he just wanted a homework assignment.

"About homecoming. Yeah. I just wanted you to know, I didn't really want to take Melfina. In fact, she asked me."

"But she said you asked her."

"I did. After she came up to me at school and said she was scared nobody was going to take her and she'd like it if I would. So I got home, told my mom, and she basically convinced me it was the right thing to do."

"Ah...ok. I didn't want to go with Ron either."

He laughed. "I knew it."

"I think everybody did."

"Well...I just wanted to tell you that, so...I'll see you at school Monday."

"Yeah, see ya."

We hung up and I went to bed. Life makes me tired sometimes.

I was disappointed when Harry informed me that he wouldn't be going to Wednesday night church with me the next week. It seems he had other things to do, so I'd be venturing in alone - and despite the fact this was youth group, that could be a scary thing. Why? Well, as there are in every church, there are the kids that come for unfathomed reasons - the questionable, the shady, the druggies...

Wolfwood.

I stepped inside the building with a shiver, surprised at how chilly the air had become, and faced down at least fifty kids who had not yet entered the sanctuary. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention the goths that attend? I have no problem with goths - seriously - but...these ones make me feel way too different. Isn't that weird?

I swear, it goes back to the time Fred came with me and practically yelled across the room, "ARE YOU GOTHIC!" I'm pretty sure from the way they looked at me that I was targeted there and then.

One of my old friends was gothic...

"Hey, Aisha. Don't bother saying hi to me."

Just what I needed.

I turned slowly to face down the sixteen-year-old who was standing opposite me, though at least four inches taller. He was tall and painfully thin with the faint whiskers of a beginning mustache, his skin dark from the sun and hair black from birth, hanging shaggily over his blue-gray eyes. As usual, he was stoic-faced, wearing a black, leather duster and dark sunglasses. His name is Wolfwood and he lives downtown in a decaying part of the city while attending one of the worst public schools in the state.

He's a messed up kid.

"Hello, Wolfwood," I purred, smiling at him mockingly. "I didn't see you."

He just stared at me, and then reached out. I froze. There's always something hypnotizing about the way he moves, his long, thin hands moving towards me while eyes remain emotionless. And then his fingers grip the color of my coat and he pulls me towards him, painfully slow, until I am pressed up close to his chest and his arms are around me. I settle my chin onto his shoulder and he hugs me even tighter, hands sliding up my back, and I don't stop him.

It's always the same. He's just a flirt.

Our relationship is creepy.

When Wolfwood pulled away, I sighed and looked at him as if he was hopeless. The two of us argue a lot (which he informed me he likes), and he's told me that his infatuation for me is serious, but YEAH RIGHT. Am I really supposed to believe that?

"So," I said, "who's the girl glaring at me like I'm stealing her man?" True to my statement, there was a stick-thin blonde standing in a nearby doorway, her arms crossed over her barely there chest, her hazel eyes glaring angrily at me.

Wolfwood pulled out a cigarette, took me by the arm, and led me outside. He's not permitted to smoke in the church, and if the pastor ever found him, he'd be dead. Personally, it bugs me how hypocritical he can be, playing religious one moment and the next breaking all the rules and cursing like a sailor.

"She's just a whore," he informed me, lighting up and taking a drag. His dull expression conveyed little about how he felt, and then he placed one hand above my shoulder, on the wall I was standing with my back to, and let his body sag over mine. "Wanna go to a party with me tomorrow?"

"I can't," I said, preferring that reply over, 'I don't want to'. If I let Wolfwood take me to one of his drugged-out, drunken parties, I'd be completely at his mercy, and although I really don't fear him, I'm not fond of being left in a strange place when he forgets about me and disappears, or even becoming one of his friend's rape victims.

I'm a virgin. Plan to be until the day I get married. It's just...safe, moral. See what a good girl I am most of the time?

"Hmm? Parents won't let you?"

"You got it." My mom is so strict, I hardly ever get to see PG-13 movies that involve much romance, which doesn't bother me since I'm not really into chick flicks. Plus I'm not allowed to eat cheese anymore. She claims there is plastic in it. Oh, and did I mention I have to wash all my fruit with special soap so I won't absorb any dirt from Chile? But, I'm pretty content with her rules. I'm really not much of a rebel at home - just other places.

"Too bad. That's where I do all my drugs." You'd never guess his dad's a priest for a Catholic church a few blocks away. Makes you wonder why he's at a Protestant youth group. He puffed some of his smoke into my face, and I launched into a traumatic coughing fit.

"Don't do that!"

"So...I haven't seen Harry around lately. Where's your freaky friend been?"

"Don't call him that," I growled.

"Why not?"

"Because...because he's my friend." Saying those words reminded me of the time one of the guys from school had called me stupid, and Harry, having been nearby, walked over and promptly smacked him over the head in my defense. 'Don't call her that!' he had said, and the title knight in shining armor had been most befitting then.

"He's such a pimp, ya know? He's got you and Melfina, I hear." Wolfwood grinned, knowing that would anger me, and blew a lungful of smoke into my face as well for good measure.

"Geez!" I screeched. "Back off, Wolfwood! I'm going inside!"

"You get mad too easily," he complained, watching as I stalked into the building, slamming the door behind me. Then, he dropped his cigarette, ground it into the pavement with his heel, and followed me inside.

Legato, Wolfwood's forever depressed friend, waved slightly to me and made an effort to smile when I passed by him on the way in. I feel bad for him sometimes. It seems like he has a hard life. I think he gets a lot of grief at home because his brother has been banished for something (I think for announcing that he was gay) and his father is never around.

Wolfwood met up with Legato and the two took their seats in the back where all the punks who just want to fool around sit and I ended up in the front row with a girl from my class.

Geometry class. Wolfwood's words still bothered me. The bell rang and I ceased chewing on my pen cap in order to gather up my book bag and papers to head up to fourth period. Harry was walking a little slow I noticed, doing that thing he does when he wants me to catch up so he can make a casual gesture of conversation. I skipped up beside him and laughed at nothing in particular, exclaiming, "Hey, Harry! Ready for the test?"

"Yeah, sorta." He smiled. I like it when he smiles. He looks really nice and happy and just...kind. And he's got straight, white teeth. How'd they get so white? And why is his skin so clear? And why did he just suddenly disappear?

Gene was maniacally laughing again, shoving Harry up the stairs, and then turning to give me a push. What a psychotic boy. Why in the world would he get so much pleasure out of pushing people up the stairs and down the hall? I guess he's just aggressive.

I good-naturedly allowed myself to be shoved up the stairway and then into the hall.

Harry, who wasn't so good-natured about it, growled playfully and said in a self-righteous manner, "Hey, Gene! You don't push people around like that! What were you thinking!"

"Yeah!" I chimed in, and we both grabbed him at the same time, Harry by the book bag and I by the collar of his shirt. Poor Gene got quite a jolt from the two of us, and although he struggled, we just wouldn't let him go that easily. Together, the three of us stumbled down the hall, bumping into many junior highers and even a senior or two, and by the end, I was knocking into Harry, who was stumbling all over the place, and Gene was spinning dizzily around.

I thought I'd never stop laughing.

Gene's red hair was tousled and he peered out from beneath the bangs with a sheepish smile. "You guys play rough," he remarked. "I never even had a chance!"

It was times like these that I felt like Harry and I were close again, like we had been in junior high, but these times didn't last forever. Nothing really does.

I'm not a very attractive girl. I'm not skinny, and I'm not fat. I'm average, except for in one exceptional area that has caused me no end of grief, although I've heard some girls muttering in envy when they didn't think I was listening. I guess you could say I'm...haha, not to sound vain (because I seriously am not), but...I guess you could say I'm well- endowed. Girls hate me for it, sleazy guys stare at me, my uniform polo shirts are too tight in that area, and just all around it makes me feel very aware of my appearance. I don't feel pretty at all.

Maybe that's why I used to wonder at why such a handsome guy like Harry would pay any attention to me. No one really liked me before him, well, except Vash, but he's a different story.

Lately, I'd been noticing Midvalley, one of the new and most popular students in my grade, looking in my direction a lot. I'd even heard me whispering my name to one of his friends. The other boy had yelped and said in a loud whisper, "AISHA! Why her! You could..."

Midvalley had hushed him then and looked to see if I had heard. I pretended I hadn't.

A few days later, we passed each other in the hall and he winked, calling out, "Hey, sexy girl." Naturally, I took up the defensive and assumed he was mocking me.

But this guy was serious, and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why. Until one day.

Midvalley sits beside me in one of my classes, and one day, as he was tipping back his chair to talk to one of his scumbag friends, I heard his low voice murmuring, "You like Lacy...? Why...? She doesn't have anything on Aisha... Look at that girl's chest." He chuckled. "She's hott."

I felt sick to my stomach then, trying to ignore the conversation he assumed I couldn't hear. Why was I surrounded by perverts? Under my breath, I denounced Midvalley, swearing to never even look his way again. He had been acting so nice to me lately... Pulling out chairs for me to sit in, bringing me things, taking a paper up front so I wouldn't have to get up...

I looked over to Harry, who was sketching in his notebook. He's a wonderful artist. Has a pure mind, kind spirit. No wonder I like him so much. He's so fun! I smiled at the memories. There was one time when I went to his house and we recorded the big fight scene between Saito and Kenshin when the chain-smoking policeman was introduced in the Meiji Arc. Then, using all of his editing equipment (which cost a bundle, I assure you) we subtitled the Japanese language. It was hilarious.

The first time Saito stabs Kenshin and screams in Japanese, cursive letters appear across the screen, boldly stating: Die! You chewed my waffle!

Now that I was thinking about the movie, I realized it'd make a good fanfic on I love to write, but I just can't seem to put much effort into my fanfiction because I never quite feel it's any good and no one ever reviews anyway, so I get easily discouraged.

Midvalley rocked back so that all four legs of his chair were on solid ground and smiled charmingly at me, but I turned my face away. He was a pervert. And I'm not easy.

Visits from Vash always cheer me up, so it was a good thing that he was coming over that night for dinner with the rest of the family. I really needed the happy spirit that seemed to follow him wherever he went. What can I say? People loved Vash.

The tall, goofy, blonde arrived at around six that night, along with his parents and gloomy twin brother, Knives. Actually, his really name was Millions, but we called him Knives because when he was five, I started to call him Milly (you know, Millions - Milly...?) and he grabbed a handful of blades and threatened to tear me to pieces if I continued to do so.

So Knives it was.

"Hey, Vash!" I said excitedly. "I got a new anime DVD you have to see! It's called Weiss Kruez!"

Vash smirked, knowing what that meant. He'd spend the whole night ad- libbing. Knives followed us like a ghost as we made our way up the stairs and I put in the OVA of Weiss Kruez. Not wanting to bore them, I skipped to the part where I knew Vash would have the most fun - the conversation between Omi and Ken where Omi happily insists Yohji and Aya will forgive them for disobeying orders.

"Hehe!" twittered Vash girlishly, speaking for Omi at the time as the boy assassin hit his head against Ken's shoulder with a grin. Still speaking in a high-pitched voice, he squealed, "I am a boy of special needs!"

Knives rolled his eyes.

It was Ken's line now as he replied, and Vash muttered something about being unsure of how he felt about gayety, and then when Omi spoke again, he screeched, "Let's go, Ken-kun! We're going hunting for boys!"

I couldn't help but laugh, and Vash immediately leapt up off my bed and struck a pose. "I'm gonna break dance now!" he announced, and dropped to the ground to roll around on his back, spinning about to the best of his ability. "WHEE!"

"You embarrass me SO much!" complained Knives, looking away from the pitiful sight.

Vash finished up and jumped to his feet. "I did that move at homecoming," he announced proudly.

"I didn't dance at homecoming."

"Why not?"

"Didn't feel like it. I'm not much of a dancer."

"Ah. What'd you wear?" It might seem strange for a guy to want to discuss clothes, but that's just Vash. He's interested in everything, and although he seems incredibly light-hearted, he can get serious in a second. He's a good listener too. That's probably why he is my favorite companion, one of the people I trust most.

I opened up my closet door and showed him the dress, then, jokingly, I coaxed, "Try it on!"

"No!"

"Please?"

"What! No way!"

Knives decided to join in. "Come on, Vash. You do it at home."

"I DO NOT!" he yelped.

But in the end, our arguing won out and Vash, grumbling, tugged on the long, black dress. He got his head stuck halfway, fought with it, forced it down, and straightened it out. And there he stood. Vash in my homecoming dress, his T-shirt sleeve sticking out from under the straps and his pant legs slightly visible through the slit up the side.

Even Knives couldn't resist laughing like crazy.

I rummaged around for a camera, desperately trying to capture this moment on film, but Vash panicked.

"No pictures!" he screamed, and began to try to free himself, but only got stuck again. And again. And again. "Nooo..." the poor guy moaned helplessly. "I'm stuuuuck!"

By that time, I was rolling around on the floor, and Knives, who declared the stupidity was giving him a headache, dashed from the room to go watch TV with my sister, who was more along the lines of his serious personality.

I fell back onto the bed and Vash threw the possessed dress onto the ground, exhausted from his battle with it. He flopped down beside me and turned his head to flash a smile my way, breathing heavily. "You're never talking me into that again."

"Too bad. It was funny." Strange thing, lying in a bed next to Vash, but we're so familiar it doesn't feel uncomfortable at all. He's the only guy I can get this close too and not get all nervous. I rest my head on his shoulder in public, hug him, lean against him when I'm tired, and he always supports me. He's always there for me.

"Did you have a good time at homecoming?"

"No. Not really. My date was a jerk."

He rolled over on his side to face me, and I peered up into his blue-green eyes, clear and honest. I'd asked him to homecoming before Ron had even invited me, and he'd said no. I could never figure out why... That's why I was so surprised when he made his next bold declaration.

"Don't worry. I'll take you to your homecoming next year. Save you from all the jerks."

"Thanks," I murmured, and looked away. As much as I wanted to go with him, this presented a problem. My mom had been informed by Renee, Harry's mom, that he had wanted to ask me to the last homecoming, but had been afraid it would ruin our friendship. ...did that mean he wanted to take me next year? If so, did I want to go with him, or with Vash?

Sometimes, it's horrible to have no choices at all. And other times, it's absolutely miserable to have more than one and fear that you might not choose wisely.


	4. Ta da! When Fred left!

"Guess what guys!" Fed was excited. "I'm leaving for Europe tomorrow!"

"WHAT! This is your last day!" Talk about short notice. How could Fred be leaving us so suddenly? I sort of hated to admit it, but I would really miss him. Who was going to braid my hair now? Or to come up to me at lunch, grab my candy bar, shake his head, and inform me of the massive calories I was consuming?

Fred had an acute awareness of his own weight and an obsession with maintaining it. Weird.

Harry frowned skeptically, leaning across Jim's desk to speak to Fred, and raised an eyebrow. "You just found out?"

"Yep. I won't be back for a few weeks. My dad has some kind of business there or something." Fred shrugged. I guess he knew as much about it as we did. He never really did strike me as a details person. Except for when he was pretending to be gay, because then, he was a compulsive details- freak.

Or at least...I think he was pretending.

To be gay, I mean.

Anyhow, Fred was leaving and I was going to miss him, at least for a few weeks. But then he informed us that after he came back, he'd stick around two more months and then fly off to some third world country for some odd reason or another and not return for four more years. Ok...it makes as much sense to me as it does to you.

Fred seemed happy though.

Later that day, in between dodging Midvalley and avoiding Melfina, who was looking slightly like she was wanting to try her luck with Harry again for some reason or another, I found myself making a list with Suzuka.

"This is the only way for you to decide," she insisted, sketching a few boys names on a piece of paper and listing their good and bad qualities beside them. "See. Now, you don't always have to be shrugging your shoulders and saying, 'I'm not sure who I like'." She smiled at the ingenious conception.

I, myself, was slightly less enthused. The only reason I said I didn't know who I liked was because I knew I felt something very strong for Harry, but he was always causing me so much heartache! I loved him, hated him, was always thinking about him! Sometimes, it was just so irritating...

"Suzuka," I asked tentatively, "who do you like?"

She blushed prettily. "Um...I really think that's a problem."

"Well, who is it?"

"..."

"Come on," I teased. "You can tell me!"

"It's...Harry."

"Oh."

"Do you mind?"

"No! Of course not! I mean...why would I? I...I don't have any claims on the boy." I sighed heavily. For some reason, my mind was screaming, "THAT IS NOT TRUE!" Everyone knew I had claims on Harry - and vice versa! Even Melfina had asked permission for liking him during our little phone conversation, in which I had barely participated. For goodness sake! We'd been teased about liking each other since junior high!

I hate high school.

I turned back to Suzuka with a smile. Can't very well like a best friend's crush, can we now? And that is when I made up my mind that I positively hated Harry, no matter how unfair that might seem.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

Suzuka cautiously peeked around the corner, making sure our Spanish teacher wasn't in sight, and then slowly wheeled me out of the classroom door.

It was after school, I was in a rolling office chair, and we were taking school property for a little spin. I laughed like mad as she rolled me down the long, darkened hall, past the lockers, around the bend, by the staircase - where our Spanish teacher was descending.

"Uh-oh!" Suzuka made a sharp turn that almost me threw me out of the chair and then raced at top speed, my legs sticking out before us so they wouldn't drag, and slid back into the Spanish room. I hopped out of the chair, returned it to the desk and we both made an effort to look somewhat casual.

"You were playing in my chair, weren't you?" Mr. Grey is pretty sharp for a Spanish teacher.

Suzuka, a straight A student who had most teachers wrapped around her little finger, frowned innocently. "No."

"Yeah, sure, get out of my room." He grinned jokingly as we scurried away.

I was still laughing - hard. Sometimes, it bothers me how I can start laughing and then just not be able to stop. I wish I was more of a serious person sometimes. You just look plain stupid when you laugh at every little thing and then can't stop.

It's actually amazing that I was able to laugh that hard at that moment. I was still feeling depressed over Suzuka and Harry. Not just because she liked him, but because I suspected he liked her. After all, he seemed to talk to her more. And flirt with her a little.

Just like I flirted with Jim sometimes. And even Vash. But sometimes, I thought I really liked Vash. I just couldn't...be sure. Oh, wait, the more I think about this, the more it makes sense.

Somehow, it's easier for me to talk to other guys - probably because I don't care about them as much as I care about Harry! I get it now... And since he seems to think just like me, the same must go for him and that means that...

I'm rationalizing this way too much. I'm hopelessly hopeful.

I like that. Hopelessly hopeful...

Midvalley was goofing around with some of his friends nearby, and paused to wink at me. I blanched.

"Can you believe how popular he is?" demanded Suzuka in irritation, and I shrugged.

"Not at all."

She left shortly after and I found myself with nothing else to do. Until I spotted Fred. He was darting here and there, shaking hands and bear hugging, doing his final farewells before he had to go. When he spotted me, poor lonely girl that I was, he smiled and waved.

We talked for a few moments, and then he invited me into the chapel, where he planned to play the old school piano for the last time before leaving. Sort of like his goodbye to the instrument.

Something very special happens when you hear a beautiful piece of music. You feel beautiful yourself. And I never feel beautiful. I feel awkward and always incomplete, like I forgot to do something to myself. But that was not the case that time.

As Fred's long fingers glided across the keys, he kept his soft, brown eyes focused on the sheet before him. It was a piece he had composed himself, he said, and while I listened to the elegant sounds, I felt elegant myself, and while I, dressed in my plaid skirt and pale yellow oxford, felt as if I was different, changed, I began to notice how the room changed as well. The wood paneling on the walls seemed prettier in the soft lighting, and even the horrid carpet got a little better looking. I gingerly stepped onto the stage and walked along it, my arms straight out for balance, and I chanced a glance over at Fred.

He was completely absorbed in the music, but a small smile was playing at his lips.

I stopped and turned, surveying all my surroundings, drinking them in, feeling special. For once, I felt very, very at peace with everything. Content, I guess you could say.

"Thanks, Fred."

"For what?"

I guess he'd never know.

Wolfwood leaned against the wall just outside the sanctuary, using his tall height to his advantage as he looked down his nose at me. I'd heard from a friend that earlier, he had called them on the phone, desperately high and almost comically giddy. But the things he had told her weren't funny. His dirty mouth and lack of respect for others were starting to get to me.

I don't know why I hung around with him so much. Probably because as fast as I walked, he could always walk faster and manage to keep up.

"Hey, you're distracting me."

I looked up at him in surprise. Distracting him? From what?

With a smirk, the priest's son reached out, grabbed the flaps of my coat, and closed it tightly, hands lingering to press on my chest. "You're shirt was too low cut. It was distracting me."

I'm sure my cheeks burned red as I swiped at his hands, making sure to keep my coat closed, and spat out his name. How dare he say that about me! It was practically a turtleneck! Would no guy ever respect me! Geesh...

"Sor-ry," he whined, and reached for a cigarette, but stopped himself halfway. "Do you smell pot?"

"No - I know next to nothing about drugs. I don't do or deal them." I mentally ground my teeth. "And we're at church! Can you just take your mind off drugs for a few moments!"

"Hey!" he barked. "I'm trying to change, you know!" He frowned, and then grumbled, "I wish you'd stop judging me all the time."

"You're the one who says you like to fight."

"Hmm."

"So...what'd you do last night?"

"My friends got in a knife fight with some gang. I was there. Didn't have a knife." He shuddered, eyes heavily lidded. When he next spoke, his voice was soft. "I was scared."

"Sorry about that, Wolfwood." I frowned, not quite sure what to say in reply. "I..."

"So...what are you doing Sunday?"

"Nothing, I guess." I bit my lip, hoping he wouldn't ask me over to his house again.

"There's a concert at another church. You should come." He handed me a slip of paper. "There. Those are the directions and stuff. Just come. You'll like." A crooked grin covered his face.

As I stared at the paper, I couldn't help but wonder at how complex Wolfwood was. He's smart, funny, and nice. And at the same time, he's a major jerk who is always making stupid decisions. I don't know. Maybe someday he'll just grow out of it and become a wonderful person.

Yeah, maybe someday.

Saturday, I found myself thinking about the past again. I really hate thinking about the past.

Hey, Harry, you said you were going to help me with my art project... You never seem to be around any more

I've noticed that myself. I guess I'm just really busy.

Something wrong, Aisha?

Well, I guess I'm just feeling down.

Aww...I'm sorry. Is there something I can do?

I just feel like everyone is changing sometimes, you know? Even you ignore me half the time.

I do? Well, I've been really tired lately. If I have been, it's not intentional or anything. Haha, I just...I just...hey, what's wrong? Does that hurt your feelings or something?

You're being really quiet.

I...

Listen, if it'll make you feel better, I'll scream in your ear all day tomorrow! I won't let you have a moment's peace!

Thanks...Harry...

+Sometimes, I wonder just what he thinks of me+


	5. Sometimes, Wolfwood gets carried away

Since I didn't want to go to the concert all by my lonesome (being stuck by yourself at one of those things can be terribly boring) I invited my friend Libby to come along. Now, just for your information, Libby is a sweet, stunningly pretty girl who is always attracting the guys when I'm with her, but she, well...she isn't the brightest crayon in the box, if you know what I mean. In short, her conversation skills are lacking.

Well, anyhow, the night of the concert arrived and my mom dropped me off at Libby's so her mother could transport us. I must admit, it was funny to watch her pull up in front of the building, spot a group of wannabe punks, and do a double take.

"Are you sure this is the CHURCH concert?" she asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes. Libby's mom is always doing that. Smiling when she's upset and fluttering her eyes. It's just what her mom does. I can't explain why.

"Yes, mom," sighed Libby, very tired of it all. And I could see why. The woman was absolutely overprotective.

So, we walked inside, and it was a lot cooler than I had expected. I mean, the band was up on stage, playing some hard core rock, and the room was darkened save for the many colored strobe lights reaching their long fingers to the ceiling, swaying and rotating smoothly. People were lounging in beanbag chairs and on skateboard ramps as well as lying across tables. Libby and I chose to remain in the back, watching from afar.

Needless to say, I was bored within the first half hour.

"DO YOU WANT TO HEAD TO THE MALL!" I demanded of Libby in a yell.

She scrunched up her face and replied with equal volume, "HUH!"

With a dramatic sigh, I grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her outside, already reaching for my cell phone. The plan was to explain to her where we were going, call my mom, and try to buy something that would cure my boredom for three hours and then eventually break. But the first person I ran into sorta changed things.

Terry (one of Harry's friends, if you'll remember) stumbled back in surprise upon colliding with me and then raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Well, Aisha Clan-Clan," he greeted, rolling the name off his tongue.

"Ter-ry," I replied just as smoothly, "what happened to your hair?" As for my referring to the massive tangle of strands standing stiffly up on his head...it looked odd.

Just behind Terry, I spotted Leon and Harry, their heads bent as they looked and laughed insanely over the video camera cradled in Harry's hands, playing back some movie they had made the week before, obviously. Harry's green hair drooped into his face to conceal it gently, but his smile was visible, and I noticed he was sporting that worn in black sweatshirt he was so fond of. But, there was a very large question tugging at my mind.

Why was Terry standing in front of me, grinning from ear to ear in a friendly manner, while Harry, who I KNOW had heard him and could see me at the moment, was standing a few feet away, ignoring me.

Libby, who was a sucker for boys and had not yet figured out that the guys from my school couldn't stand her, bless her heart, ran a hand over her hair to smooth it and coaxed, "Let's stay a little longer now that they're here."

"They're going to ignore us anyway," I said morbidly, glaring at Harry until I realized he had glanced at me quickly from the corner of his eyes, his smile only fading a bit before he turned away again.

I blushed and looked back to my cell phone, beginning to punch in my mom's number and ignore Libby's pleading. She was my friend, but also a ditz that could not take a hint. Why couldn't she see what I saw? They didn't want us here. And I never overstay my welcome.

But then I saw Wolfwood strolling down the hall, nearly a head taller than everyone around him, sunglasses in place despite it was a chilly March night, and I smiled to myself. If there was one person Harry despised, it was Wolfwood, and I'd noticed how much he seemed to hate it when I was around the priest's son. Maybe he was jealous. Maybe he just hated Wolfwood for putting him down constantly. I dunno. All I know is that I calculated my move perfectly so that at the exact same time Wolfwood was passing Harry, I began to wave my hand and call his name with an enthusiastic grin.

"Hey, Aisha," said Wolfwood, raising his eyebrows in surprise at how warm my greeting was. He bent down to hug me, and I peeked over his shoulder to see, much to my disappointment, that Harry wasn't even watching. Though he had to be blind to not see what was going on. "So, you came," Wolfwood continued, casting his eyes briefly on Libby. "Oh, hi Libby. Wow, you're looking pretty good tonight. Finally turn thirteen?"

She frowned. "I'm fifteen."

"Ah. That's too bad. I was hoping you were fourteen." He shrugged and moved on, motioning for us to follow. Wolfwood has this thing for girls two years younger than him. I don't know why. It's disturbing, if you ask me. Thankfully though, it keeps me from making the cut of his serious infatuations.

Libby and I resumed our places at the back, standing there silently like two solemn and slightly bored figures, which I supposed we were, and Wolfwood spotted another girl he knew and wandered off, slowly. I kept an eye on the back door and finally heaved an angry sigh when Harry passed through with his friends. 'He better say hi to me, or I'll never speak to him again,' I thought furiously, but my mental threats just weren't extending to his brain, and he walked on by, not even looking at me.

You have no idea how much that hurt.

So I stood there, feeling foolish, feeling ignored, wondering why he wasn't even approaching me. At the time, it never really occurred to me that he might be feeling the same...

The band was singing some song about feeling like you're not even there, and I could totally relate. Standing beside Libby, and feeling slightly sick, I pulled out my cell phone again to check the time. It was only 7:30. I still had two more hours to spend contemplating new ways to ignore Harry, but after about five minutes my mind tired of that subject and I found myself drifting to the subject of whether or not I should go to camp for the summer. I'd had bad camp experiences... Like the lady who was in charge of my cabin who had treated us all like five-year-olds, going as far as to read us picture books for bedtime stories. It was so boring, it traumatized me.

"Um, hey." Someone was breaking through my thoughts, tapping me on the shoulder and bringing me to the realization that the band had stopped for a break.

I twisted my neck around to look over at Harry, who was standing there beside me now, smiling sheepishly. "Oh, hi," I replied distantly, still wondering if I should keep my vow to ignore him.

His face fell slightly and he glanced away, and then back again. "I didn't think you'd be here tonight."

"I didn't want to," I snapped back. "I wanted to go to the mall. Libby here wouldn't let me leave."

"Oh." He paused, seeming unsure of what to say, and turned to face the front again, but did not move away. I noticed that his friends were off in a little group some yards away, laughing and being complete morons with some girls I didn't know. That made me feel slightly better. Harry had left them to come talk to me.

"Hey, Harry," Libby giggled, smiling at him flirtatiously. When Harry barely made an effort to respond, she laughed again, pulling me down to her slightly shorter height so she could whisper in my ear, "Do you remember when he had a big crush on me?"

"No," I replied, very bored. Libby is ALWAYS imagining that the boys in my class have nothing better to do than sit at home and fantasize about her. Sad thing is, whatever thoughts they have of her are ones of pity or fear, in Terry's case. She spent the entire winter last year stalking him and claiming that he couldn't stop staring at her.

Harry didn't pay any attention to the whispering, but fidgeted instead, so I turned back to him and smiled. "So, what is this band called again?"

"Um...not quite sure, but they're really good."

"Yeah." I was about to say something else, but Wolfwood chose that moment to return, grabbing both my hands in his. I have to admit, he always makes me nervous when he does that, and my palms began to dampen with sweat. He seemed to take no notice.

"Can you swing dance?" he asked me, and I looked over my shoulder at Harry, who was scowling. Oh yes, there was that hatred for Wolfwood flaring up.

"No."

"Then I'll teach you!" And he immediately began to dance - swing dance, I guess - and I tried to follow as best I could, but it was hopeless. Even I found humor in the situation. We broke apart, laughing.

"You don't follow lead very well," he said. "I'll try my hand with Libby now." And he stole her away, dancing the both of them into the crowd.

"I really don't like him," growled Harry.

I patted his shoulder sympathetically and joked in a mock-serious tone, "I know. I know."

Leon chose that moment to pass by us, doing some sort of weird, bobbing dance that was something like the Egyptian walk, and I started to crack up, pointing at him and holding my stomach. However, as my eyes followed along with him, they strayed upon Wolfwood, who was now gripping Libby by the wrists and swinging her round and round so that her feet were not even touching the ground. Airborne and nearly four feet parallel to the ground, her face was frozen in a look of terror, eyes wide open.

I cried out and gripped Harry's arm, trying to direct his attention to the weird scene, but by the time he had looked over there, Wolfwood's grip on the poor girl had slipped and she went flying into the mosh pit, both her shoes spiraling in different directions.

One landed at Terry's feet and he kicked it towards the stage, a hole appearing in the crowd of people where it landed as they stared at it in fascination.

Libby dizzily rose to her feet, stumbled around a bit, and then went off in search of her shoes.

Both Harry and I were ready to collapse from laughter, and Wolfwood sent me a half-apologetic half-amused look before ambling off somewhere.

For the rest of the concert, Harry and I talked, something we really hadn't done in quite a while. And by the time I left, we were both in better moods.


	6. When things started to change

Annnnnnd, once and for all, I don't own anything! Oh, and btw, this chapter takes places in early June.about two and half months after the last chapter.

"AISHA! WE'RE GOING TO BE SOOOO LATE!"

I poked my head around the corner and looked down the stairs at an exasperated Vash, his face upturned and pouting, hands on his hips. A few strands of blonde hair flopped carelessly into his green eyes. "I can't find my jacket!" I cried out, just as frustrated.

"Let me come up and look!"

"No! I have my bras and underwear strewn all over the place! My room is a mess!"

Vash gave me one of his exaggerated flirtatious smirks and said in a lower voice, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "I don't mind..."

He dodged just in time as I threw one of my tennis shoes down at him.

While I made a mad dash back to my bedroom, plunging into the mass of clothes that I had neglected to put away and thrashing wildly about in search of my jacket, I heard Vash's wailing voice floating up the stairs and through the hall.

"HARRY AND MELFINA ARE GOING TO THINK WE'RE NOT COMING AND LEEEEEAAAAVE!"

I sighed, finally locating my thin denim jacket and throwing it on, bolting back down the stairs at such a speed I lost my balance and vaulted almost head first towards the kitchen floor and right where Vash was standing, looking alarmed at seeing me falling towards him. The situation wasn't unfamiliar though - I was always tripping over my own feet, and he was used to seeing this, having known me since we were toddlers. Quickly, on reflex, he spread out his long arms and caught me as my elbow hit his chest and my head knocked against his hard shoulder. Together, we tumbled to the ground, landing in a pile of tangled limbs, laughing and groaning in pain at the same time.

I'm not sure who got hurt more in the fall. Me or him.

Once we had picked ourselves up, I straightened my clothes, thanked heaven that I hadn't been wearing a skirt, and let him help adjust my jacket so that it wasn't half on and half off. "You are such a klutz, my little pet," he said, laying his hand on my head and ruffling my hair affectionately.

I grinned up at him.

"You two ready to go?" asked my mother, breezing into the kitchen and sweeping up her purse. "You're going to be late."

"Yeah, we know, we know," I said good-naturedly, slipping my left foot into my sandal and then setting forth to search for the matching shoe.

"You should work on this, Aisha," she continued. "You're never prepared."

I found the other sandal underneath the couch in the adjoining living room. "I know, mom."

"This is a terrible habit."

"Hey, I inherited it from you."

She opened the door to the garage, released an anxiety-filled sigh, and scolded, "This is just like Sunday morning. You always make us late. What are you going to do when you go off to college and don't have me to prompt you into getting you ready to go?"

As Vash and I trooped out to the car, a red blazer, I turned and grimaced at him, demanding, "When are you going to get your license so you can take us to the mall?"

"Hey!" He sounded offended as he took his seat and fastened his seat belt. "When are you going to get your permit? At least I have mine!"

"But you're going to be seventeen soon, whereas I'm going to be sixteen soon. Therefore, you should've already has your license. It's understandable for me not to, of course."

He sighed, rolling his eyes.

We bickered most of the way to the mall, about almost everything under the sun, it seemed. But it was all in a friendly way. I was excited about seeing Harry again, now that things were going to smoothly between us, and even Melfina had backed off.

"He likes you, Aisha - he'll never go for me," she had confided days earlier with a smile. "I can tell by the way he looks at you and the way he talks about you. I won't bother him anymore."

Now, the four of us would be spending the day together, which was sure to be pleasant. And besides, it was almost summer - school was just a few weeks away from closing. No problems, no worries. Life was perfect then.

Once we were standing outside the mall, Vash and I, jostling and pushing and laughing as we both made our way into the building, standing perhaps too close together, I somehow found my thoughts wandering to the blonde boy beside me, appreciating him immensely. I'd known him longer than I'd ever known anyone outside my family, and I knew him like the back of my hand. We were going to go to homecoming together. Somehow, that vision was enough to make me laugh out loud. Whereas everyone took the event seriously, we'd both show up and somehow find a way to turn it into a big mess, making a mockery out of tradition and seriousness. That's what Vash and I always did - we were odd, we were loud, and we were partners in crime. Completely and totally trusting and comfortable with one another.

At least we were back then.

Vash caught my hand then held it tight, stopping just inside the door and leaning in so close to me I thought for just a second he was going to kiss me. But his face was suddenly serious and his eyes were solemn. We stood frozen, and I fought the urge to panic. This was just another joke of his - nothing could be wrong.

"Aisha," he said quietly, "you never loved me."

I laughed nervously. "I love you, Vash," I told him honestly. "I love you like my brother!"

"You love Harry, don't you?"

"No! I don't love him!" I couldn't stop laughing, couldn't stop shaking my head and trying to pull my hand away. "We're friends and I might have a little crush on him, but that's all! What's wrong, Vash?"

He drew back then, and exhaled heavily, as if what he was going to say to me took great effort. "I met someone."

"You...what?"

"Her name is Meryl. I love her."

"Why haven't I met her?"

"Because I only know her over the Internet."

Silence.

"What? Oh... Oh, I get it! This is a joke! You're hilarious, Vash!" I grinned and pushed at his shoulder, chuckling, "You almost had me going."

"I'm not joking." His expression backed up his words.

I felt my own face grow serious, all traces of previous humor gone. My mouth opened, but no words came. This was bizarre. Completely and totally weird. How could this happen, to Vash of all people? He was always so down on dating in general that I didn't see him getting a girlfriend anytime soon - especially not one that only existed in his computer! "But...this isn't like you."

He tiredly ran his fingers through his hair. "I know. I know." He paused. "But she is special. We've been talking for...about six months now."

"SIX MONTHS!"

"Yeah, it's a long time."

"Hey! Aisha!" Melfina's voice rang out clear as a bell across the mall, pretty and tinkling as usual. I turned, saw the beautiful girl waving an arm to beckon us over, and sighed in confusion. Harry stood beside her, hands shoved into his pockets, his white shirt splattered with what appeared to be paint beneath his heavy, khaki-green jacket.

He must've been helping Renee remodel their house again.

Vash and I walked slowly over, and for the first time that I could remember, we felt miles apart. I knew everything about Vash, one of my best friends - why hadn't I known this? What else was he doing that he had not told me about? And above all, why did I suddenly feel jealous and miles away from the person who I had just been so happy with?

Harry gave me a mock-disapproving look when we arrived beside him and Melfina. "You two are half an hour late," he announced. "Melfina and I were about to leave."

"Aisha couldn't find her jacket."

"I said I was sorry!" And Vash and I were back to friendly fighting, shoving one another until Melfina, always the peacemaker, broke us up with a sweet smile and calm words.

It's amazing. How she's not fake at all, I mean. I used to think so - used to believe no one could be that perfect, and above all, I used to be envious. But through time, she has proved herself true.

"Guess what I got," Harry said, holding out a bag for us to inspect.

Vash plunged his hand inside, withdrawing a small, plastic army man. "AWESOME!" he cried, immediately shoving it into his mouth and biting off the head, which he spit in my direction. Then, proudly, he wedged it into the pot of a fake plant, declaring, "We'll leave them all around and people will find them and wonder what the heck kind of messed up kid left them there! It'll be great! Maybe, later, we can come back and find them!"

Melfina, the only one among us who lacked a weird streak, looked unsure but smiled agreeably. "Let's get smoothies first," she suggested.

So we headed to the food court, and while she and I stood in line, the boys sat at a table, making great and adventurous plans concerning their little soldiers. Melfina, obviously concerned, worried aloud, "I hope no one thinks this is a protest against our country's soldiers. Oh, I'd just hate that. It could look like that, you know? Biting off the army men's heads and leaving them all over."

I tilted my head to the side, grinning lazily. "Vash and Harry - arrested for being terrorist suspects. Wouldn't that be a great story to tell everyone on Monday in homeroom."

Melfina giggled. And then, craning her neck and peering behind me, she commented, "Hey, isn't that Iris?"

I turned, searching for our blonde classmate. We were new friends, Iris and I, and although she was a bit of an air head, she was fun to be with. I spotted her just as she was hugging Harry, against his will from the looks of it, and then waving to Vash and blowing a kiss.

Ok, this was a new side of the girl I'd never seen before.

I didn't really like it, much.

As I was grinding my teeth and clenching my fists and debating on the best way to kill my new friend, Melfina laughed quietly and commented, "She sure is friendly, isn't she?"

"She's...touching...them," I growled, and I feared my eyebrow was twitching. It felt like it was. Those two guys were my friends, and even when I felt like it, I refrained from hugging them, so every other girl should do the same! Yes, I am irrational, and yes I am possessive sometimes, but it's a thousand times better for one of them to flirt with a girl like Melfina than to love being fawned over by Iris.

And trust me, Vash was loving the attention.

"Oh, don't worry about it." Melfina calmly laid a hand to my shoulder. "She's leaving now, see?"

I quickly worked on cooling down, trying to listen to her reassuring words and relax. "Yeah, you're right. Oh, ok, it's our turn. Let's order. You go first."

Vash and Harry were smart. They'd never fall for someone like Iris and this thing with Vash's computer girlfriend would never last. I just knew it. It had to all end sooner or later.

It just had to.

"Last day of school!" called out Gene, sprinting past me in the hall, throwing out a long, tanned arm to send me sprawling back against the wall. In a blur of red, both from his hair and his school uniform, he rushed past, taking no notice of his most recent victim - me. "FREEDOM!" he screamed, rounding another corner.

I collided with the off-white painted walls of the school, my book bag making the near-fall all the more clumsy. Somehow, the clumsiness that I was notorious for didn't set in and I pushed off the wall with both hands to stumble back to an upright position, smoothing out my pleated skirt quickly.

"Someone is excited," commented Iris, ambling over towards me with that flirty smile on her face. It was the blonde girl's normal look - even if a boy wasn't in sight she had remain on the prowl, blue eyes heavily-lidded, skirt rolled so that it was about five inches shorter than it was supposed to be. Slung over her left shoulder was a khaki colored bag, in which she carried a few books, but mostly chap stick.

She was addicted to the stuff.

"Gene is just a moron," I mumbled, still recovering from the collision with the redhead. Then, tiredly, I spun and threw my book bag in the general direction of my locker, watching as it sailed through the air, hit the ground, and slid into it's place. "So, Iris, any idea what's going on this year?"

Every year, on the last day of school, our high school changed it's agenda. One year, we'd been given complete freedom and allowed to run wild but the last we'd been confined to the classrooms and had even done some work.

Iris rolled her eyes in that pretend-ditzy manner of hers. She's actually smart - not that she'd ever want anyone to know. Heaven forbid a boy find out she has a brain. "Weeeeeell," she sighed, "I think we have to check in to each class...but then we can leave! How is Vash?"

"Vash...?" I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You know - that blonde friend of yours. I saw you and him at the mall with Harry and Melfina the other night."

"Oh, yeah." I vaguely recalled getting a glimpse of Iris from the line at the ice cream place in the food court. I'd been standing with Melfina, had glanced back, and seen her approaching Harry and Vash at the tables. For some reason, at that moment, it all seemed like such an insignificant moment.

Iris was labeled as the class flirt as well as the self-proclaimed slut. We hadn't talked much, but were loose friends who did favors for one another. I invited her to a few parties - she promised she could get me a job as a waitress at the restaurant her sister worked at sometime next summer. Apparently there were no openings this summer.

"When I saw him and Harry at the food court, I just had to say hi! Harry introduced us - how come you never told me about how cute your friend was?"

"It's not something I normally bring up in a conversation."

Iris squealed in happiness and bounced slightly on her heels. "I got his number!" she sighed happily. "We talked the WHOLE time you were in line."

"It was a long line."

"And he told me I could call him! I talked to him for TWO HOURS the other night! We talked about politics and communism and the government!"

Now, the thought of Iris even admitting to knowing the definition of the word politics, let alone how communism worked, struck me as odd. Trying very hard to conceal my surprise, I blurted out (rather tactfully for me, I must add), "You don't know the first thing about the government!"

She giggled, batting a hand at me, crinkling her nose in amusement. "Of course not, silly!" she cried. "I just called him and he started talking about it so I told him I had no idea what he was saying and he explained everything to me! We talked all about how the government is corrupt and communism is better than...than...uh, what we have now!"

"Capitalism?"

"Yeah!"

Vash didn't normally complain about much. He was too happy - too goofy. Tall, lanky, blonde Vash with his deep green eyes and wide grin. What in the world could he see in Iris? He didn't normally waste time on girls who pretended to be stupid, who were all over the first boy that came into sight.

Then again, I hadn't thought he was the type to date over the Internet either.

I walked over to my locker, realized that Iris was trailing after me, and sighed, turning to face her. "Hey, my combination is 3 - 27 - 5. Help me out here?"

She narrowed her eyes in confusion.

"Suzuka always unlocked my locker for me in eighth grade and as a result I never got the hang of it. So here I am. Unable to open my own locker. A little help?"

She quickly spun the dial, completing the task in seconds.

I nodded my appreciation, opened the locker, and moaned in dismay as a dozen water bottles, countless papers, and a butterfly kite with the spool of thread spilled out onto the floor. I guess I'd been lucky all the trash had stayed put for as long as it had.

As I knelt on the floor and scooped up the litter, Harry and Suzuka appeared, hovering over me curiously, pondering over the kite and the English essay I had written on yard gnomes and actually gotten an A on. It didn't take long for Harry to pick up the kite and Suzuka to snatch it from his hands, throwing it into the air and taking off down the hall with it. Much to everyone's surprise, the kite flew. Granted, it banged on the ceiling and made quite a racket, but Suzuka managed to keep it in the air.

She can run at the speed of light, it seems sometimes.

Iris was the only one who laughed and made a big deal out of the sight. Harry and I were used to Suzuka's antics - she was spontaneous on her good days, and it wasn't like we hadn't done something stranger before.

As we stood there, Harry turned to face me and said with a smile, "Guess who came back to visit?"

"I haven't the faintest."

"Well..."

"Aisha! Darling! You haven't changed a bit! MWAHAHA!" A pair of hands clamped down on my shoulders and spun me around, turning me so that I was facing a tall, dark-haired boy with deep brown eyes and an obnoxious smile. "I have returned from China to see you all one last time!" he cried.

"FRED!"

"AISHA!"

"Fred!"

"Aisha!"

And that was the end of it. Fred looked at me one more time with a slight smile and then he wandered off. I heard him down the hall calling out to Lacy, "Lacy! Darling!"

"That guy is GAY!" proclaimed Gene, making yet another appearance. Some of his hyper energy had worn away, but he was still living off some sort of sugar high. He shoved me against my locker, and I gave a half-hearted cry of anger just before slamming into the metal.

Harry glared at him.

"Whoa, back off there, Harry!" Gene grinned, glancing Iris with a wink.

Iris smiled back, batting her eyelashes.

Suzuka returned with the now broken kite, not even out of breath, and wordlessly brought it down over Harry's head so that it ripped and he was wearing it, and none too happily. Then taking the string like a leash and jerking him off down the hall, she commanded, "Here, boy," and just like that, the kite was a dog collar.

Harry obediently followed and I walked along behind, trailing slowly at first and then running to match my stride with Harry's. I grinned at him. He smiled back.

Suzuka noticed and jerked hard on the kite string.

Fred suddenly leapt before us, clapping his hands and exclaiming, "Oh my! What do we have here?"

"We're going outside, Fred," I told him, because I knew Suzuka better than anyone and I knew that's where she was leading us. "You want to come?"

"I'm coming!" Gene yelled rudely, pushing Fred aside and galloping out the double doors to the front yard, into the sunshine and to the huge tree in front of the school. Easily, he swung himself up onto one of the lower branches and sat himself there, laughingly kicking Fred in the head as the boy walked by.

Fred didn't seem to take any notice, instead looking up at Gene with an adoring expression.

"STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!" Gene growled, and Harry, who was working on getting the kite off from his head, laughed lightly.

"This day is beautiful!" Iris gushed, twirling about in the sun so that her skirt flipped out and flowed around her and the sun struck her blonde hair, shimmering. I'm sure she thought was appeared very beautiful and poetic at that moment. "It feels like heaven!"

"No," Fred declared, looking at Iris with a little bit of disdain. Fred didn't like ditzy girls, and he certainly didn't like Iris. "Heaven will be much more pleasant. It's too humid here."

"It's not humid," I protested, sitting down on the bench and leaning my face back to take in the sun. Sighing contentedly, I grinned, eyes closed.

Gene gazed across the parking lot at where some of the girls from our class stood, squealing and laughing and hanging all over Midvalley. Grimacing, angry at being dethroned as most popular boy, he spat, "We also know it's not heaven because Midvalley is getting all the attention."

"And Midvalley won't be in heaven," I added innocently.

No one reprimanded me except for Iris, who giggled and trilled, "Oh, Aisha! You're so terrible! Oh well. I guess I just like everyone... I'm too nice, aren't I?"

Fred chose that moment to look very philosophical. He folded his arms behind his back, stood up straight, looked at Gene, and said, "Gene, I'm sorry to inform you that there will be no sex in heaven, so your little wish is invalid, isn't it?"

Gene jumped out of the tree, landing heavily and putting his hands angrily on his hips. He scowled, gesturing quickly at Fred and demanding, "What are you talking about? Who made you the authority on heaven?"

"Don't you listen in Bible class?" Harry asked quietly, for he usually preferred to stay out of these conversations. "Fred is right."

"WHAT!" Gene cried. "That SUCKS! I don't believe this!"

"Oh, stop being a big baby." I stirred from my relaxed position to join in the little spat, rubbing my sun-dazzled tiredly. "You don't know anything. You're still a virgin anyhow."

He looked at me blankly, as if to say, 'what does that have to do with anything?'

The bell rang then, putting an end to the awful and pointless conversation. We all trooped inside to our homeroom, took our seats, and managed to sit through attendance. That was basically the whole day, actually. It was a pattern, a cycle, and it was fun, but not worth talking about.

What is worth mentioning is that as I was walking towards the door at the end of the day, Iris caught me by the elbow and when I turned to face her, she smiled sweetly. "Would you like to go to the movies with Vash and me?" she asked innocently.

I frowned. "When?"

"Next Saturday."

"I can't. I'm going to Harry's house."

"Oh, I guess Vash and I will be alone then." And with that, her smile turned predatory and she flounced out into the parking lot.


	7. Ok, so I don't accept change very well

"So, what do you think of Iris?" I whirled on my heel and tossed a pack of tomatoes haphazardly over the vegetable display, sending it spiraling through the air and towards the shopping cart. Grocery store employees standing nearby cringed, watching as the red spheres sailed clumsily through the air.

Harry skillfully jerked forward and shot out a hand to catch the falling produce, cradling the bag of plump, red veggies in his cupped palms. "Iris?" he asked, amusement heavily tinting his voice. Gently, he sat the tomatoes down in the cart, letting them rest between the eggs and bread. "She's a ditz. That's all there is to her. Why?" When I didn't reply, the teal-haired boy grinned and scolded, "Aisha, what personal spat have you got going on with that girl now?"

I thought of our blonde classmate with her flirtatious smile and sickeningly sweet voice and twisted the scowl on my face into a wide grin. I was sure an eyebrow twitched. "She's messing with Vash."

"Oh. Not surprising." Harry navigated the cart slowly through the next aisle, dutifully checking items off the shopping list his mother had given us. Never had a more obedient teenage son existed. "She's a huge flirt. You remember how she chased after me for like..."

"Seven years," I supplied. "Between second and ninth grade. She's just now getting over you. And she's onto Gene."

"Ah..."

As we rounded the next corner, the two of us ambling slowly through the aisles and tossing random items into the cart, I tightened a fist in anger and seethed, "Vash and I have known each other for fifteen years, and even if we're not as good of friends as we used to be, I swear, if she takes him away from me...she's gonna get it!"

"At least he goes to a different school," he tried to console me, but to no real avail. "And hey, it's not like you like Vash - what's the harm in him going out with her?"

"Because he's got a girlfriend!" I exploded. "Her name is Meryl, and even if she's not around, she's still his girlfriend!" Dropping my tone to a murmur, I added, "And Iris changes people..."

"I thought you two were friends."

"We were - until she set her sights on Vash and let me see her true self. She's using me, Harry - using me to get to Vash. All she does is use people. Makes me sick."

I would've continued on my own personal rant, mumbling insults to myself and to the half interested teen walking along beside me, but we were at the checkout counter, where Harry's mother was waiting, her basket full of what would soon be our dinner. She was a lovely older woman who grinned appreciatively at us as we approached, exclaiming, "Aisha! Thank you SO much for helping us shop! I know we didn't warn you about it when you came - you've been a wonderful sport!"

"It's ok," I lied politely. "I don't mind."

She leaned her elbow on the checkout counter and tilted her head to the side, gushing, "You two look so cute walking up here with that shopping cart full of food. I bet people are looking at you and wondering, 'where's the baby?'!"

Oh, geesh, did she just imply Harry and I looked like we were a couple? Thank you, Harry's mother, for bringing up one of the greatest causes of anxiety in my life, and also for joking about the two of us actually having children. Do you not know what sort of ideas that puts into both of our heads? It's inevitable to think of having a baby with someone standing right beside you and not consider what you'd have to do to actually have the kid! I understand you a crazy woman but why must you make these comments!

I gave her my greatest forced grin in Aisha history (I seemed to be forcing myself to smile a lot lately) and found it in my heart to laugh nervously, as did Harry. We both were getting more and more perplexed by his mother's efforts to bring us together with each day that passed.

Dinner was fairly uneventful. I brooded over Vash and Iris some more and Harry listened and ate his hamburger - mine went untouched as it is too hard to eat and talk at the same time. A few times he was able to steer the conversation in a more cheery, normal direction.

Ever heard the wonder boy song, Aisha? Here, let me sing you the best part in my weird, creepy voice reserved only for you! Able to kill a yak a from two hundred yards away with MIND BULLETS! Eh...that'd be telekinesis, Kyle!

It's really hard to keep your mind on a Tenacious D song when you know you're losing your oldest friend. Sure, he wasn't my best friend - he had been at one time but had been demoted along the way for anger management problems - but we still had that bond you could only acquire through time.

I think my eyes started to get all dreamy when I remembered back to how I used to play in Vash's kiddie swimming pool when we lived by one another - that's how we'd known each other for so long, having been neighbors as infants and until midway elementary school - but anyhow, the kiddie pool was round, plastic, and collapsible with pink dolphins and blue waves painted on the outside. When we sat in the shallow water, Vash would cross his arms and look very wise and explain to me that he was adopted (he wasn't) and that he was actually royalty from Timbuktu.

Yes, I believed him.

Harry was waving his hands in front of my face when I came to, looking a bit miffed at being ignored. "If you're done with dinner," he said, "I have something to show you."

So we trekked up the stairs and to his bedroom, which is pretty much the typical boy's room. Painted in dark colors with a dusky green bedspread always in disarray and snowboarding equipment arranged lovingly in the corner. Posters of his favorite bands on the walls, desk cluttered with pictures and papers, a dresser with a TV, DVD player, and gaming systems. His lighting was pretty dim and I tripped over a pair of cargo pants, almost fell onto his bed, but managed to keep my footing.

Harry sifted through some drawings on his desk and then pulled a certain one from the pile, turning to face me almost tensely. His mouth was set in an expressionless line. "Here," he said, holding out the paper like an offering. "I made this for you."

It was a large and floppy piece of drawing paper, and I held it carefully in my hands, stretching it to it's full length carefully. I studied the penciled sketch, it's shading and flowing lines. It was a girl - she was pretty. Her face was tilted to the side a little and she was staring with wide, beautiful eyes at me, slanted over because of the angle he had drawn her from, as if she was turned to the side a little. Her long, thick hair poured over her shoulders, which was as far down as the drawing went - a half smile curled her full lips. She looked kind of familiar.

"Gee, thanks," I said to Harry, admiring the artwork with a bit of fascination. "You're a great artist."

Harry looked a little confused but accepted the response with a smile, nodding his head.

I glanced at the girl in the picture again. Harry was amazingly talented - she looked really lifelike, and well, she looked like - ha, get this - she looked like me. And she was me. Because he had drawn a picture of me, from memory, no doubt, and I'd been too stupid to realize it was me because the girl was so pretty and I was not pretty but maybe that's how he saw me.

Wouldn't I be lucky if that were the truth?

"Trent, you have to stop leaving your orders at the counter!" I slammed the scribbled-on piece of paper on the stainless steel table - the only table in the kitchen of the tiny diner I worked at - and growled. "That guy out there has been waiting for his fries for half an hour!"

The boy I was lecturing looked vaguely surprised and a little offended. "Oh...kay," he said slowly, shrugging one shoulder.

I raked a hand through my thick, colorless hair and growled in frustration. The little restaurant I had attained a summer job at was absolutely worthless - nothing ever got done. And since I was the newest worker, this was all naturally my fault.

Sure enough, the manager/cook came waddling around the corner just in time to assess the problem, tear into me in a flurry of profanities, and throw some fries in week-old oil. It was disgusting, being back in that kitchen and seeing the crap people actually consumed unknowingly, and besides, if you got a look at the cook alone, it was enough to make you lose your appetite. She was an overweight, wrinkled woman in her late sixties with short, curly brown hair, fogged up glasses, and a cigarette always in her mouth. While preparing food she never washed her hands or wore a hair net or did anything I thought the sanitation department demanded.

Business was almost always dead - not surprising when you looked at the service - so Trent and I stood and watched the bubbling oil slowly sinking into the frozen potato slices. Sickening. Still, it was better than working with Michael - the trekkie nerd of the century whose hormones were raging.

"Do I get Saturday off?" Trent asked, leaning over the table and plucking a slice of tomato from one of the condiments container. There's another thing - we were allowed to eat whatever we wanted, even if it meant digging our sometimes grimy fingers into the food bins.

"No," Jean answered shortly, giving the fries a shake. That was the manager's name. Jean.

I leaned across the counter and plucked a pickle from the case, dropping it into my mouth.

"You like pickles, Aisha?" Jean asked curiously, glancing my way.

"Oh yeah, I love them. Eat them with peanut butter on a sandwich - sometimes I have them with ice cream."

It was like the room shrunk then. Jean and Trent edged in a little closer, she peering curiously into my eyes. "Aisha...," she said in a hushed voice, "are you...pregnant?"

I lurched forward, trying not to choke on my own saliva. "What!"

"Oh, your face is all red..." Jean seemed concerned, which was a first.

The bell above the door in the diner jingled and I leapt for joy, screaming, "CUSTOMER!" and leaping out of the kitchen in a single, amazing bound, which near resulted in a sprained ankle.

The girl standing behind the counter gave me a skeptical stare, one that said she clearly thought me not to be competent. "Hello," she said coolly, her dark, piercing eyes taking me in distantly. She was bone thin and had long, straight, jet black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. A look of distaste crossed her pale face as I grinned at her and she demanded quietly, "Can I order now?"

"Sure!" I grabbed a pad of paper and a pen, beaming uncontrollably at Suzuka. She was my sarcastic, strong-willed, aloof best friend, and it was just like her to pretend to not know me when ordering food. It was her first time visiting me at my job - she'd warned me of her coming.

"How is Harry?" she murmured after I'd taken her order, eyes darting suspiciously at Trent. "I haven't heard from him all summer."

"He's good."

"And how's your job going?"

"I'm pregnant."

A long pause. "Excuse me?"

"It was a joke, Suzuka - my boss thinks I'm pregnant because I like pickles. Don't give me that look! I was just being stupid!"

"As usual, I see. Now, never say those words to me again. They make you sound like Iris."

"HEY! What did I do to deserve such a terrible insult!"

Suzuka gave me a wry little smile and said quietly, "I would like the twenty-one piece shrimp basket."

Iris smiled slyly at me, one of her newer expressions I had become accustomed to. My stomach churned nervously. What did she want now?

"Aisha," Iris said sweetly, sliding across the couch to sit closer to me. Vash was across the room in an overstuffed chair, watching us out of the corner of his eye while pretending to focus on the TV show. On the floor beside his chair sat dour Legato, who was trying to shut us all out.

Legato had once been Knives' friend, but had quickly transformed into Vash's, seeing as how Knives was never around anymore. Where he went and what he did, not even I knew. It had been weeks since I'd even heard of him. Whenever I asked Vash on his brother's whereabouts, he would answer, "Probably killing someone."

"Aisha," Iris said again in a lower tone after seeing me turn away disinterestedly, "do you think you and Legato should...go outside?"

"Why?"

"Because..." She obviously hadn't thought of this part yet. "Because Legato looks so bored. You know he hates TV, and you're just so fun, Aisha - you could entertain him for sure. Didn't you used to live in this neighborhood?"

"I lived in that house right over there," I replied, nodding out the window at the white house that sat beside Vash's. "But there's nothing to do outside."

"Of course there is, silly!"

"Alright, alright!" I grumpily stood up from the couch and stalked over to where Legato sat, grabbing him by the arm. He shrunk away from my touch, looking up at me with a scowl, but I persisted, yanking the boy up to his feet. "Come on, Legato - we're going outside."

"Why?" he demanded dully.

"Because Iris told us to!" I glanced at Vash, hoping to see some disgust, some confusion, something in his expression that told me he was on to Iris' game, but he only returned my stare with a smug smile. Somehow I suppressed a snarl and dragged Legato out into the backyard.

It was a sunny day in July. Really warm but with a nice breeze. Legato, not much of a conversationalist, slowly let his golden-eyed gaze travel around the grassy expanse of land, raising a tanned hand to sweep some blue hair out of his face.

"So, how's Wolfwood?" I asked in an attempt to salvage the afternoon. Legato and Wolfwood were in the same class at school, along with Vash, so perhaps if I got the boy on a topic he was comfortable with, he would open up and we could have fun together.

Legato shrugged.

I, myself, sighed unhappily and looked to the garden Vash kept, and then to dog pen beyond that, where his father's hunting dogs were yapping and yelping for attention. "What do you think he sees in Iris?" I asked my companion.

Legato let his lips lift in a grim smile. "Master likes to wrestle with Iris."

"Not funny, Legato!" I whacked him over the head and then turned heatedly away, holding my chin in my hand and sending my brain into overtime. Only one solution came, and it was a little immature, but hey, I take what I can get. Resolutely, I marched over the living room window and peeked in. Sure enough, Vash was sprawled out on the couch on his back with Iris straddling his waist, leaning over him and letting her hands rest daintily on his shoulders. One of his long-fingered hands was stroking through her hair.

That is NOT something you do when you have company over!

Legato rose up beside me, blinking in a bored manner at the sight. "Master is ignoring us," he said, sounding a bit annoyed.

"Stop calling him master! It's what gave him this horrible ego that has now enveloped and destroyed him! Ill put an end to this! I'll stop it now! VAAAAASH!" Crazily, I pounded my fist against the glass, trying frantically to somehow stop the evil at hand, but my muffled cries concerned the pair very little. Iris glanced back at me, smiled sweetly, and went back to whispering in Vash's ear.

"GAH!" I fell to my knees and grasped at Legato's hand and begged him to stop my nervous breakdown. "She's evil!" I cried. "PURE EVIL!"

"Aisha..." Legato looked shocked and slightly appalled. "Get a hold of yourself."

"Where is Knives?" I exclaimed. "Where are Vash's parents? They would stop this! They would put an end to it!"

Legato withdrew his hand and shook it a little, as if to rid himself of my germs, and then gave a long-suffering sigh. "I must admit, she has changed Vash," he said quietly. "And he is being rather rude. When they are together, no one else exists."

"Come on, Legato," I beckoned for him to follow. I would've grabbed his shoulder or arm or pushed him or something, for Legato doesn't really walk - he more or less ambles slowly along, taking his time - but he absolutely hated for any girl to touch him. Females were his common enemy - I was one of the select few he would acknowledge as a human being.

"What are we doing?" he wanted to know, lazily dragging his feet and moving at a snail's pace towards the sliding glass door, where I already stood.

"Do you have your cell phone?"

"Yes."

"And you know Meryl's number, right?"

He scratched the back of his head, finally stepping into the house and allowing me to close the door behind him. "Yeah."

I chose then to ignore his wish to not be touched and pushed him roughly back into the living room with Vash and Iris, who didn't bother moving at our appearance. Sweeping his cell phone up into my hand, I turned it on, threw it to him, and commanded, "Call her."

Vash continued to ignore us, raising his head to murmur something in Iris' ear, causing her to giggle.

Legato dialed slowly, looking at me doubtfully, and then raised the phone to his ear, sighing.

Although Meryl was all the way across the country from Vash and they had never met in person, they frequently talked over the phone. After all, she was 'his light' and 'the love of his life'. Iris was just a 'really good friend' that 'he could trust and occasionally wrestle with'.

I crossed my fingers and prayed that Meryl was home and almost jumped for joy when Legato said, loud enough for all to hear, "Oh, hi Meryl. Yeah, I'm at Vash's."

"WHAT!" Vash bolted upright, narrowly avoided knocking his skull against Iris', and shoved the girl to the floor. She landed with a thud and a pained cry, looking as if she had been terribly wounded and horribly betrayed and gazing up at Vash with a look of shock and dismay. He bolted off the couch, grabbed for the phone, and, panting, greeted, "Hey, love. Uh...yeah. It's just me and Legato and Aisha."

"And Iris!" I yelled, knowing full well that Meryl, even though thousands of miles away, could sense the dangers Iris brought and was often edgy at hearing of her and Vash being together.

He glared at me and muttered, "Yeah, she's here too."

I sensed general unhappiness flowing throughout the room and quickly took my leave while the getting was good. I wandered back into Vash's bedroom and flopped down on his water bed and closed my eyes and remembered times when we were much closer, when he wasn't so deceitful, and when I trusted him. My eyes flicked over to the collage of pictures on the shelf just a foot or so above the mattress - Meryl's shrine, I called it - at least a dozen photos of the petite, dark-haired girl.

Vash suddenly appeared in the doorway, looking very sinister, if I do say so myself. His eyes were narrowed in such intense anger I wondered how he could possibly see me - which perhaps could lead to danger, I thought, glancing at the sword that hung on his wall across the room. His fists were clenched tightly, so tight I thought he might draw blood from his palms with his fingernails, and his mouth was a straight, expressionless line.

"Yo," I said softly, waving my hand in a quick, sharp motion from right to left from where I lay on the bed.

"Why did you do that?" His voice trembled, barely above a whisper. He was so angry... "Why are you acting like this!"

"Acting like what?" I growled, looking away. I couldn't bare to face him anymore.

"So insanely jealous! Why are you jealous of Iris? You are jealous because I give her more attention, aren't you? You're jealous because I am closer to her than I am to you!"

Ouch. That hurt, Vash. I blinked my eyes quickly to wipe away the obvious pain in them and felt like a stupid little girl all over again - it would be so embarrassing to let Vash know how much he had gotten to me. Him and Iris closer than we had been? Ridiculous! Iris was just a stupid girl who he had known for less than two months! They didn't talk about anything - I'd heard them. A typical conversation for them had once been him trying to explain what a dictator was while she giggled and asked stupid questions, but lately it had developed to them simply arguing over who was in control of their relationship.

Yeah, it didn't make much sense to me, since they were supposed to be just really good friends.

"How can you say I'm jealous of her?" I demanded. "Do you think I want to be the one whose mind you play with? Do you think I want to be the one who you use as a replacement for your Internet girlfriend? Why would I be jealous of that!"

"Oh please," he shot back, "why don't you just accept it that I care about her more than you?"

"Oh please," I snarled in return, "why don't you stop cheating on Meryl!"

He sucked in a sharp breath as though I'd punched him in the stomach, and stumbled back. "Do you..." he murmured, aghast, "really think that I'm...cheating on her?"

I nodded solemnly. I felt like asking, "Do you really care about her more than me?" but refrained from the question, lest this newer and stranger Vash answer it carelessly. The blonde boy was standing before me, looking horribly upset, and I glared at him, angry that he had changed so suddenly and without warning. It had happened so fast.

"How could you NOT know you were cheating on Meryl?" I demanded, but backed off when I saw the look of pain increase in his eyes. Meekly, I added, "Vash, what's happened to you? You're being such a drama queen."

At first I had resented Meryl, but at least she had molded Vash into a kinder, gentler person. Iris was turning him into a lying cheat. Now it seemed that this Internet girlfriend of his was my only chance at getting one of my best friends back.

And perhaps that was the thing I resented most at that time.

That I hadn't a prayer of a chance at altering the situation one bit.


	8. I updated because Panda made me

"Harry, go upstairs and get my portable DVD player! Vash, you bring me some ice!"

Harry turned obediently to mount the steps leading to the second floor of my house while Vash stood before me, tilting his head quizzically to the side. Legato was beside him, his normally blank face holding a hint of curiosity. "Ice?" Vash asked.

From where I was sitting on the couch before him, my left leg crossed under my right one, which was stretched out before me, I scowled. "Yes, ice - it hurts." Carefully, I reached down and fingered the rip in the knee of my jeans, wincing and sucking in air through my clenched teeth as a fresh shot of pain exploded at my touch. An excellent bruise, covering most of my knee and a small portion above, was blooming in blue and purple - not that you could see it through the blood. Scarlet fluid was just gushing from the gash, which was centered in the bruise. I could only imagine what my mom would say when she got home. Luckily, I'd had the foresight not to bleed on the carpet. "Dang it, Vash,." I seethed, "I thought you were smarter than that!"

As if to back me up, Legato turned his head to look at Vash and said hesitantly, "I can't believe you hit her with her own four-wheeler..."

"I DIDN'T RUN HER OVER!" he cried out, exasperated. "She fell off the back while I was driving!"

"Because you drive like a crazy person!" I yelled back. "You almost flipped us over! It's a miracle we weren't both pinned beneath it! Geesh, I said, 'slow down around this corner and watch out for the ground hog hole', but did you listen? No!"

Vash lost interest in the argument and bent over me to examine my minor wound, marveling at how my leg had not been broken. "You don't need ice," he informed me, and then, in that mock-suave voice, "Want me to lick the blood off, kitty?"

"Hm, that is not appealing to me in the least. I know Iris likes it, so save it for her."

He frowned and retreated into the kitchen to get me an ice pack, leaving Legato to stand beside me, eyeing my cut. My whole body ached - when he'd hit the hole and we'd gone flying, his body had jerked back, hitting mine and in turn making my grip on the ATV slip so that I had tumbled off the back. Stupid, yeah, but I was more or less concentrating on the pain. Not just my knee - no, my neck hurt, my back was sore, and my wrist was just a bit sprained.

It seems I am not easily injured.

Harry returned to the living room in a bundle of wires and the small, compact DVD player, setting to work on hooking it up to the TV. "This has been an exciting anime day, eh?" he teased, glancing back at me with a sympathetic smile. Anime day was our annual get together, where we did nothing but watch anime.

And tear me to pieces. Someday, I was convinced, the injuries would progress to such seriousness, they'd end up somehow blowing me up so that nothing was left but countless pieces of what had once been Aisha.

"Yeah, it has been exciting," I grumbled, hugging a pillow to my chest and becoming slightly melancholy. It had been strange, suddenly coming to on the ground and seeing Vash leaning over me, appearing deeply concerned. No one had to explain what had happened - I remembered, and I was mad. But he took my hands and pulled me up and put an arm around my shoulder, and so softly that Harry and Legato couldn't hear, he apologized. I had almost broken down into tears then, but not because I was upset about the accident. I had put my arms around him and leaned my head against his chest, which caused him to think I was going to faint and hold onto me tightly lest I did fall. But I wasn't going to. The pain wasn't very bad - it wasn't like I wasn't used to hurting myself through random acts of stupidity and clumsiness. But what really got me was, when he had whispered in my ear that it was his fault and that he was sorry, he sounded a lot like the Vash I used to know. The one that came before Meryl and Iris and before all his apathetic tendencies...

"Ice!" Vash declared, thrusting a bag of ice into my face and causing me to snap out of my reverie.

Harry had hooked up the DVD and popped our new anime, Yukikaze, in. Then, he came and sat by me, being his usual sympathetic self and inquiring on how I felt, if I needed anything. No, no, and just watch the movie.

Legato, as usual, settled on the floor at Vash's feet, quiet and looking a bit servant-like. I wondered if he had suffered some trauma as a child...

While the others watched the movie, I flexed the muscles in my leg to test if they were going to get more and more sore with each passing minute. They did. Harry must've noticed because he glanced over and asked, "Feel better?"

"Eh, I'll be really sorry tomorrow."

"Well, at least you're ok."

"Yeah." I locked gazes with Harry, saw the smile in his purple eyes, the teal hair that framed his face, and raised a hand to brush a strand of messy, white hair from my own eyes. Even after he looked away I kept my head turned to steadily stare at him, frowning, wondering why the things he said didn't mean as much to me as they used to. For some reason, the boy who I had once been fascinated with was now just...plain.

It wasn't like I had just woken up one day and decided, "I'm a stalker - I need to quit thinking about Harry." Nah, I had tried that before, and it hadn't worked. It was more of a gradual process - little by little I found myself drifting away from the idea of Harry and I being together.

Apparently, it was only appealing more and more to him though. Maybe he thought I was playing hard to get, or perhaps he saw no difference in my attitude towards him, but whatever the case, he was paying more attention to me than ever before.

School girls and their silly concepts.

I felt like jumping out of seat then and bolting out of the door because, frankly, I was an idiot. I wanted to run away from the things I had said and done and even thought. Away from Harry because I couldn't look at this almost perfect boy anymore.

But of course I couldn't. Vash was always telling me I couldn't run away forever. Honestly, I didn't know what he meant. I had not begun to run at all.

The rest of the summer was routine. I healed from the four wheeler incident, continued to work at the ice cream shop, and thought about Harry less and less and Vash and Iris more and more. Honestly, an Internet girlfriend isn't much of a concern of mine, but she now gave me an excuse to separate my friend from Iris's web.

After all, even if Meryl was thousands of miles away, she still had feelings, right?

Wolfwood and I began to form a new and different relationship. We came to an agreement. I would accept him for who he was, and he would be more of a friend to me. It was interesting, really - he would sometimes come to my house to teach me how to knit.

Yes, Wolfwood enjoyed knitting. As well as chess and Star Trek. I guess you just never know...

"I've been arrested three times," he told me one day as we sat on my porch, staring out across the street and at the grassy field that they had just begun to dig in for the new house that was soon to be built.

I glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow. Sixteen and arrested three times? Pretty impressive. "What for?" I demanded.

"Once was for curfew."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, actually, I was in this sleepy little town of yours. Visiting my grandma. It was past midnight and I was sitting on the porch, waiting for my uncle to pick me up, and the cops pulled up and arrested me. I told them it was my grandma's house, and that I was waiting for my uncle, but they said they didn't care and cuffed me. Man, your policeman need more to do around here."

I smirked. "What about the other two times?"

"Second time was for 'tampering with your bridge'."

The bridge was a giant, blue construction that they had built across the river in the heart of town - I lived more on the outskirts, but passed over the old bridge everyday on the way to school.

"How in the world do you tamper with the bridge?" I was baffled by the idea. After all, cars pass over it all day long - what could one teenager do to it?

"It was after midnight again, and I was waiting for my uncle - again. I was standing by the bridge, and they arrested me for 'tampering with it'. My grandma was not happy about bailing me out."

"Third time?"

"It was the fair. I was five minutes late getting back to my grandma's house - she called and said I had run away, so they found me and cuffed me again and took me down to the station."

I burst into hysterical laughter then. It was too funny, watching Wolfwood's never changing face, his dull expression and almost bored tone of voice. Clutching at my sides and bending low over my knees, staring at the sidewalk beneath me, I felt I would suffocate before I quit laughing.

Wolfwood smiled at me, slightly amused, and then stood up. He walked to his motorcycle, long legs eating up the distance in long strides. He straddled it and pulled his helmet on, calling out, "I better get going. Tell your mother I am deeply in love with her."

And with his signature departing remark, Wolfwood left my house.

August. Not much going on. School would be starting up again - I was already eyeing the uniforms hanging in my closet nervously. It was on such an occasion, as I sat up in my room, that the phone rang and I answered.

Vash.

"Go to homecoming with me," he invited. "Remember? We made a pact way back in December. Or was it January?"

"It was New Year's Ever."

"Ah, so both."

"Yes."

"You still coming with me?"

"And Iris?"

He laughed dryly. "We're not speaking anymore. Meryl got concerned so I stopped speaking to her altogether."

"Bet she is crushed."

Quietly, he muttered, "...so am I."

"Alright, we'll go to homecoming together. Just two friends, and we'll have a great time."

"Yes."

"See ya' later than."

I slammed the phone onto the carpeted floor of my room, angry with myself for making such a stupid commitment.


End file.
